


Volatile Spirits

by kahlannightwing



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Amnesia, Eventual Sex, F/F, Fictional Religion & Theology, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahlannightwing/pseuds/kahlannightwing
Summary: In a world split by a reef-encrusted strait surrounded by cliffs that separate Dawn from Dusk lands, multiple gods split their rule in decade long periods. Crowley finds herself on Dawn lands with no recollection of what has happened, except that she had something to do with it. With the period of rule unbalanced, there are many questions, and Crowley seeks to answer them all. Aziraphale is a alchemist with the burgeoning Phosphorus Guild who just might have them. She certainly doesn't want to get tangled up with rebellion and criminality.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley paused, ink drying on the quill hovering over the sheet of paper. Her brown eyes drilled into the doubleted man in front of her. "And you want me to do what about it?"

"Uh, ma'am?" The man, Rogbert she recalled his name was, twisted his muffin hat in his hands.

Setting down the feather on her desk, she resisted the urge to pinch at the bridge of her nose. It wasn't Rogbert's fault. He was delivering exactly what she had told to be delivered to her: the results of their inquiry.

"It's fine. She refused?"

"She didn't want to listen to, uh, propaganda, no ma'am."

"You can call me Crowley. It's alright."

Rogbert nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am. Uh, I mean—"

"She called it propaganda," Crowley prompted. Why did they send someone so nervous to her? Couldn't they have sent someone who didn't look at her and see some title for their movement?

"Yes. She said she already had offers and wasn't accepting any of them. Then she—"

"Right. right, she turned you down. She's not the first to do it, and she won't be the last so it's okay." Crowley stood, moving around the small desk in a room cluttered with papers. Stopping in front of the courtier-turned-messenger, she stuck out a hand. When Rogbert stared at it blankly, she wriggled her fingers at him. "The pamphlet. She read it, right?"

"Uh, no!" He squeaked out the answer as he rifled through his pouch at his side and thrust the crumpled paper into her hand. "She said she didn't have time."

Crowley hummed as she smoothed out the paper so she could see who they were talking about. They recruited multiple people several times a day, so it was easier to just pretend she knew what was going on when people assumed she just did without telling her. "Yeah, those types never do."

Rogbert nodded his agreement as Crowley scanned the paper for the name of the recruit — Aziraphale — and the reason they were recruiting her. They collected books. That explained a lot about why Aziraphale might be reluctant about anyone approaching them. It was the age of book burning. 

Crowley didn't remember when the rule of the gods had started. To be fair, she had a strong, lingering case of amnesia. She was sure she had amnesia for a very good reason — at least she told herself she did — but it was inconvenient to say the least. What she had come to learn was that there were two continents. These two continents served six sets of gods each. The gods rotated a ten year period of rule between themselves to keep the peace. She wasn't sure how far it stretched back because, supposedly, every time the gods Lagh and Croithi ruled, they burned all the history of anything that had happened before.

Lagh and Croithi were eleven years into their rule. Crowley was aware that this was too many years. She had plenty of diagrams strewn about the room to prove it. Something had happened eleven years ago that had apparently shaken the status quo. The something was the death of the then-ruling god Panybil.

Crowley needed to know what had happened. The only chance of finding out was from accounts of people who saw it. She needed books, journals, and scrolls that recounted that time since the death had occurred in Dusk lands and she now resided in Dawn lands. There was a chasm between her and the place where things had happened, and only written texts could solve the issue. Lagh and Croithi had eleven years to erase much of that history and they had at least two more years to finish it.

Aziraphale had every reason to hoard, treasure, and hide her possessions. Crowley had every reason to do anything in her power to secure them when they might be the last source of the history of the only death of a god anyone remembered.

"Did you tell her we just wanted to keep the books safe?" Crowley finally looked up from her musings, giving Rogbert some credit for being quiet while she ruminated.

Rogbert shuffled his feet, glancing down at them before he took a breath and squared his shoulders. "When we told her that, she chased us out."

Crowley raised a brow as she tucked a strand of long, red hair behind her ear. Smacking her lips, she leaned back on her heels before rolling forward again. "She...chased you out?"

Rogbert nodded, eyes going wide. "She wasn't yelling, but she was so….angry. She was furious. She came running at us, all wide-eyed and wild-haired! She was feral! We didn't know what to do. We...ran. Then she threw something at us. It hit the ground and this powder stuff flew into the air around us. It made our eyes sting and water and burned our throats!"

Crowley's eyes widened. "Are-are you all okay?" Obviously Rogbert looked hale and healthy in front of her, but there had been others….

"We're all fine now. The doctor said it was...pepper."

"Pepper," Crowley inquired and reached behind her to set the paper on the desk to get lost among the others. "Just...pepper?"

"Not just! She said it was a, um, a very spicy pepper? I'm sorry. I didn't remember the name of it." He twisted his hat in his hands and grimaced. "Do you...want us to go back? I might have to find some others to come. Ernald refuses to go back."

Blowing air out of her mouth, Crowley grinned. "You don't want to go back either, do you?"

"Uh—"

"No. It's okay. You don't want to go back to a crazy, pepper-throwing woman. I'll do it."

"You," Rogbert gasped. He looked as if he'd never heard of their erstwhile leader taking the front lines. To be fair, she hadn't done it in a while. She tended to keep a low profile. If she were caught, their entire operation would crumble.

"It'll be fine. I'll...tie my hair back. Wear a hood. I'll be in and out."

"You should talk to, um, Catherine. She needs to know these things."

"Why would you think I wouldn't talk to my second?"

"Uh, I mean, of course, m'am—"

"For fuck's sake, I'm kidding!" She grinned and reached to pluck the abused muffin hat out of his hands, plopping and straightening it on his head. "I'm not going to eat you. I hope before the next time you come talk to me you have a shot of something strong. You need to relax!"

"Uh, yeah. Sure, m--Crowley."

"See? Better already. You scoot off and take a break, huh? Doctor's orders, I bet." She smiled and moved back around the desk. "I'll talk to Catherine."

"Doctor's orders," Rogbert agreed. "Thanks...for not being angry."

Crowley snorted. "It's frustrating, but I'm not the only one frustrated, right? We'll do everything we can to secure those books. With that knowledge we can find out what happened."

Rogbert nodded, but he didn't move. His hands rubbed against themselves as if they wished the hat was still gripped there. "Ah, can I ask a question?"

"Sure. Ask away. Like I said, I don't bite." She flashed her teeth at him, and he swallowed.

Opening his mouth, he considered his words, sighed audibly, and then plunged ahead. "What are we looking for?"

Crowley's mouth dropped. Then she snapped her lips shut on the answer that wanted to spill from them. Did her organization know why they sought this knowledge? All of them knew why it was being searched for. Every couple of decades knowledge, history, was taken from them. It was stolen, and those she had gathered agreed that they were tired of it. They wanted their history. They felt it was important to understand what had happened, and they worried about what they had lost.

Crowley hadn't ever told them what she, and therefore they, were specifically looking for.

"That's a good question," she began because reassuring Rogbert he was intelligent was important. It wasn't just pithy words either. He was smart to ask that. She reassessed the choice to send him to her in her mind. "You know what happened over a decade ago?"

Biting at his bottom lip, Rogbert nodded. "You're the only one that says it."

Crowley reached to rub at the back of her hair, feeling her long hair scrunch up. "Yeah, well, I-I don't know. I guess...because I don't remember. Isn't it weird though? I mean—" Pausing, she swallowed Panybil's name back. It really made everyone uncomfortable, and she really didn't understand why. "--what happened was horrible, but it happened on a continent and a strait away from here.

"I think finding out what happened and why, hearing tales from those who saw it, will help us piece together what's going on. It will tell us what we might need to do next. For me though, I'm hoping it will help me remember."

"You really think you were around back then?"

Crowley smiled. "It's a bit of a coincidence, right? I just happen to not remember anything prior to eleven years ago?"

"Yes. It is a bit too, um, convenient isn't the right word."

Crowley laughed. "It's not, no, but I understand. Is there anything else you want to know?"

"No. No, I mean, thank you. You answered the only question I can think of for now...and you didn't bite off my head." He smiled hesitantly. "I'll, um, I can tell the others, right?"

Crowley tilted her head and smiled. "Yes. In fact, if they or...you have any questions, you can come ask me. I— Maybe I'm not so good at knowing what people are really concerned with because, well, I'm focused on this whole memory loss thing. I'm here to lead all though, and...I do want to be a good leader."

Nodding, Rogbert smiled. "I've heard the story of how you collected us all."

"Pfft, I wasn't subtle enough. Now I'm in hiding."

"You've got people to be subtle for you now." He waved a hand. "I'm going to go get some rest. Doctor's orders, and you should talk to Catherine."

"I will, I will." Crowley waved him off with a chuckle. "We all know she's the one really running this show, and I'm just the piece she flaunts!"

Rogbert let out a surprised laugh. "Nah. We follow you and not her!" With another wave, he let the door close behind him.

Running a hand through her hair, Crowley sighed. Truthfully, she didn't know what had prompted the Order of the Serpent to follow her specifically. Eleven years ago, she had stumbled into town and fainted right into the arms of her second, Catherine. She was fevered, drifting in and out of consciousness, and rambling in both states. Catherine had told her later that she'd felt compelled to take down notes of all the mumbled phrases she'd slurred out.

Those notes had been what Crowley had woken up to, without a memory of what had occurred before she had woken up. Catherine and her family had cared for Crowley while bed-ridden, but as soon as she was able to feed herself and stumble about the bedding set aside for her, there were questions.

Since Crowley didn't have the answers to the questions her seemingly random ranting had provoked, that had become the first of many entries in the mystery of what had happened. Beyond that, it was frustrating that she had said so much in a fevered state and then remembered none of it.

Catherine had been the first and was the most aware of Crowley's trauma at the beginning. She had helped her through what she could at the time, but they all felt the relief when Crowley moved into her own space, It was cluttered and didn't have proper furniture in its one room, but it was hers. Crowley never asked Catherine where the funding for...any of their ventures came from.

Now Crowley stood, moving away from the clutter piling her desk and to the back of her home. She placed her hands on the wall, pushing with one until a split became an edge she could grasp to rotate the wall. Behind it was a dark crawl space. Without a pause, she ducked within and the wall closed behind her.

Crawling through the dim space as it slowly sloped downwards, she felt for the corners ahead of her, closing her eyes so they couldn't play tricks on her in the darkness. When she turned the fifth corner, she knocked six times on the wall in front of her.

There was a sigh from the other side. "Password?"

Crowley sighed. "You know it's me. Open up."

There was a smacking of lips and Crowley could hear Catherine's grin. "Password," she chirped musically.

"Fine, fine. Forked tongue, happy?"

"For now." The wall swung away from her hand and she herself supported by her arms as she clambered out.

"Do you have to do that every time? It's hard enough crawling through a tunnel under the earth between our houses without you insisting on passwords." Furrowing her brows at the grin on Catherine's face, Crowley inhaled and stepped around her, looking around at the office space that was just one room in Catherine's two-story housing a family of four. "I need to go out."

"You need—" Crowley felt the air brush her as Catherine spun around to follow her movements. "You just decide on a whim to go out, Crowley!"

"I'm not!" She was not looking at Catherine, keeping her gaze on the trinkets lining the bookshelves. "Is this new," she inquired, pointing to a glass rabbit frosted pink and finally looking at Catherine. "Hey, I came to you first. Rogbert even advised it. He's smart...and kind, I think."

Running a hand through black hair, Catherine snorted. "I sent him for a reason, Crowley. You are not distracting me either. Why do you feel—?" Catherine paused, sighing as she rubbed at her forehead. "The librarian."

"She's a librarian?" Crowley strode to Catherine's desk, perching on the edge of it and crossing her ankles. "I didn't think those existed. In fact, I'm sure they wouldn't right now."

"They don't," she confirmed dryly. "That's just what we code-named her. She appears to be an alchemist that works for the Phosphorus Guild."

"Appears?" Crowley balanced on her hands and kicked her feet out, placing them back on the floor when Catherine's eyebrow rose in warning. "Why appears?"

"Appears because although she is listed as a member, she's also listed as a truant a lot. She rarely attends their councils and is a bit of a 'freestyler'. It's rumored she conducts experiments outside the recommendations of the Guild."

Crowley smirked. "So you're saying she's a rebel?"

"Crowley, no! She is not a rebel like we're rebels. She's extremely by the book—"

"Hah! Book!"

"--and will resort, as has been demonstrated, to semi-violent means."

"Ah, pepper to the face isn't violent. Mean, sure, but she thought—"

"We don't know what she thought."

"--that her books were going to be burned." Crowley straightened with a tiny hop, taking two steps to Catherine's side. "You know keeping me cooped up isn't healthy. You know I start to leak."

Wrinkling her nose, Catherine sighed again with a grimace. "I wish you wouldn't call it that. We don't know what it is."

"But things start happening around people thinking about me."

"We've discussed why that is."

"We have, but it's a bit, uh, much right?"

"That's how it works with—"

"I know. I know. I'm still wrapping my head around it. Give me some time?"

Catherine stared at Crowley for a long moment and then nodded. "Okay. It's still dangerous, so I want you to tell me how you're going to do this with minimal risk."

This was a part of what Crowley appreciated about their relationship. It had been shaky those first few years, but they had worked out a rhythm because of their aligned goals. Crowley knew she was spontaneous. She had an idea and immediately worked to execute it with consequences being a last minute consideration. In contrast, every move Catherine made was detailed out, even perception being considered as part of the end result.

Moving behind Catherine's desk, Crowley sprawled on the chair with her feet tucked underneath. She leaned forward to plant both elbows on the desk as she spun a plan in her mind on the spot. "I'll hide my hair. It's a dead-giveaway. Going at night is best, and I'm sure I can take the same path the original group we sent took. Rooftops or alleyways?"

"Alleyways. We would've sent a smaller group for rooftops. We have the patrols' times mapped out, so that's fine."

Crowley nodded and pointed a finger at Catherine as she continued. "So stealthy and hidden, identity concealed, I'll make my way to the librarian. Is...there a backdoor?"

"Nope," Catherine chirped.

Frowning at her tone, Crowley enunciated, "Then I will work my magic at a window."

Catherine frowned. "That's— Are you serious?"

"What? It works?"

"You know how real magic works."

"Exactly! That's why this works! I'm telling you, Catherine, one day they'll sing songs of this technique, and it'll be a soaring epic!"

Rubbing at her forehead, Catherine nodded. "If we can keep songs remembering by text and not merely word of mouth, I'd accept such a travesty."

"Hey—"

"What happens if something goes wrong?"

"Uh…."

"You have to have a backup plan." Catherine approached the desk, sitting in the chair opposite Crowley and grasping her hands. "I know it hurts you, but this is war. There are lives lost. You have to protect your own just like you'd insist anyone else protect theirs."

Blinking, Crowley nodded as she grasped her hands. "I know. I know. If I can't convince her, I'll come back. We'll work out a way to steal the books."

"Good. That was going to be my next step, but I'm glad that you—" Catherine sighed and then smiled at Crowley. "You keep me rooted in the human part of our cause, you know?"

"Irony?"

Catherine laughed. "Maybe. We'll figure that out later. For now, knowledge is power, but obtaining that power at the cost of who we're fighting for is not something we'll sacrifice. That's our first rule. Your first rule."

Crowley knew — in the deepest parts of herself beyond what she didn't think about — why that was her first rule. "Then you'll let me try?"

"Yes. I will. I won't ask to send someone with you because I know you'll just lose them...and they'll spend a week wondering how you did it." Catherine smiled, squeezing Crowley's hands before releasing them. "Let me get you some supplies."

"I have—"

"Fresh supplies. Your wardrobe is mostly black, and you know that sticks out as badly as your red hair."

Crowley reached up to tug at her hair, pulling the waves of color over her shoulder, and frowned. "Black is fashionable."

"Black is expensive, and you're not nobility with that kind of expendable coin."

"They're gifts…" Crowley trailed off even as Catherine picked up the thread of conversation.

"And you know why that is too."

"I wish you'd quash that rumor," Crowley grumbled.

"I can't quash a rumor when it's true. Come on," she continued before Crowley could protest. "Let's get you set up. Do you want to wait here or at home?" Catherine rose, walking out of her study as Crowley trailed behind.

"Do you mind if I stay here? I haven't seen your children in a while."

"They miss you. They'd be delighted if you stayed. They love your stories!"

Crowley laughed. "You love my stories!"

They crossed a hallway and stepped into another room that had sofas and chairs for sitting and a tea tray in the corner. Catherine moved to a wardrobe that was upright in another corner, opening it and pulling out a cloak that was a dull tan. "I do love your stories. I've always loved them." She turned with the cloak in hand and held it out. "There. This will be perfect. It has all you need lined in the pockets inside."

"You're lucky no one accidentally takes these out." Crowley reached for the cloak, sliding it around her shoulders and clasping the front. She did the hood up and then clutched the ends to hold them aloft like dingy wings. "I'm going to go terrorize your children!"

Catherine giggled as Crowley turned with a yell, calling out the children's names as she heard answering squeals of delight and surprise. Shaking her head with fond mirth, she retreated to her study to make sure the route would be clear for Crowley's excursion tonight.

* * *

_Ping…. Ping…. Ping…._

Crowley threw the fourth rock in five minutes at the upstairs window, perched in a shadowed corner in the alley formed by a jutting wall of the building next to Aziraphale's shop and, apparently, home above it. It rattled against the glass with a tinny sound.

As Crowley bent down to grab another small rock at her feet, the sound of the pane being thrown back brought her snapping back upward. The sudden motion sent the hood flying back, red hair tumbling down her back. Her hand went up to pluck at the ends, gathering them together, but two wide blue eyes were staring at her as if they'd seen her on dozens of "wanted" posters.

"Er, uh, h-hello! Aziraphale, yes," Crowley asked as she stuffed her hair back under her hood. "Um, I'm—"

"A criminal," cracked the chill voice above her framed in golden hair cropped short to curl around her ears.

"I mean, depends on who you ask." Crowley's grin didn't alter Aziraphale's cool expression. "Uh, can you not shout for anyone until we've talked?"

Her lips pressed thin, but the glance she made toward each end of the alley was nervous. Her hands came up to grip the sill and curled into the painted wood. "Talk."

"Can I come in—"

"Talk here. You've already sent your goons to bother my shop."

"They didn't— Ah, never mind. I suppose it is a bother when you're working. I'm Crowley," she began, glad she wasn't interrupted this time. "I thought we might've started off on the wrong foot. I came myself to talk to you. You know, face-to-face. That way you can address concerns—"

"No."

Crowley's mouth clicked shut and then opened again. "No? I just—"

"No, you cannot have access to what I have. They're mine."

"Listen, knowledge isn't any good to anyone shut up—"

"They're mine. They're priceless and irreplaceable. You'll get them wrinkled, sticky, stained, and you'll," Aziraphale hissed, lowering her voice as she leaned out the window at an alarming ankle. "crack the spines!"

Both hands were in the air by the time Aziraphale leaned back with pink cheeks. "Okay. Okay. Listen, it isn't even the books we want."

"What?" Aziraphale's eyes went round, fingers finding each other to twist together.

"Yeah. We want the information. Not the books themselves. You can keep them safe. You've been doing that for a while anyways, haven't you?" As Aziraphale's eyes darted backward, Crowley began to make new assumptions about the librarian. "So obviously you're the best to keep keeping them all safe. I only—" Crowley swallowed. "--I only want specific texts. So wh-what if it's just me?"

"Just you? You're saying you just want to come in and—" She swallowed whatever words came next and shook her head. "Absolutely not. I know exactly what your kind are!"

"My kind?" She could help the emphasis on the pronoun. "What does that mean?" Her voice was rising.

"Exactly what it sounds like. No go away—"

"Is this what your kind is like?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You sit up high in your cushy little windows of judgment and label anyone questioning anything as criminals."

"You are a criminal. You've broken the law."

"What law?"

Aziraphale bit at her lip, brows drawn down angrily as she stared at Crowley. "I am not continuing this conversation."

"Yeah, well maybe it won't matter if you don't talk to me."

Aziraphale's face went stiff, and Crowley could feel the heat of her glare from where she stood, still in shadows. "Are you threatening me?"

"My people came in to ask you questions and offer their help, and in exchange all they wanted was access to important information you have that might help us all. You hurt them. I came here hoping to talk sense—"

"Talk sense? You wouldn't know sense if it poked you in the nose. Your people endangered me. Do you think I'm not being watched?" Her lips went thin as she leaned back.

She hadn't meant to say that by the alarmed look in her face, the darting glance up and down the alleyway again. Crowley heaved in a breath. "Then when and where can we meet again?"

"What?" She ducked so far back into her home, Crowley thought she was fleeing.

"To talk. Someplace you feel safe. Tell me. I'll meet you there. Just me and no one else."

"You could ambush me."

"You could ambush me," Crowley countered. "I know your books aren't here. Without you, we'll never find them." Catherine was confident they could so they could steal them, but Crowley didn't like guessing and waiting. "Just give me an hour of your time where you'll feel safe."

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a long moment, the darkness hiding the expression on her face. "At the end of the main lane there's a trail. Take it to the temple."

"The...temple of Hyacinth?"

"Yes. Go there in one week at this time."

"Alright. Tha—" Her words were cut short as the window closed and the latch clicked into place. Sighing, Crowley forced her hands not to pull her hood back so she could worry at her hair. Catherine was not going to like this at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their first real meeting. Will Crowley be able to convince Aziraphale to join their rebellion? What secrets are Aziraphale keeping that make her hesitate? Is it just a abhorrence for breaking the law, or are there facets to Aziraphale that Crowley just hasn't taken the time to discover yet? An agreement, an archive, and an argument await in this act.

Crowley had been told that she couldn't go. Catherine had threatened to lock her in her room, tie her to a chair, and set a guard to watch her. She, luckily, had only done one of those things. The guard had been easy to slip past and unseen into the darkened alley behind Crowley's home.

Crowley watched the torch-lit patrol pass her, feeling the weight of the knife tucked in her boot. The shined armor with Lagh's crest winked at her as the flames flickered over it. She couldn't hear the low murmur of conversation between them, but they continued on without sensing anything amiss in their patrol. Slipping around the corner, she sprinted as quietly as possible between buildings to the outer walls of the city. The next patrol would be looping the city in the opposite direction and this was the only opening available to slip past them.

Grasping the uneven stone brick with both hands, she followed the wall along the west side of the town heading north. Behind her, a tower stood that looked over the cliffs separating Dawn from Dusk lands. Even at night she could feel the weight of the shadow it cast, as if it was reaching out to capture her. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the feeling back. 

She'd have to slip through where rubble had been solid walls before the Dusk attacked. The garrison town of Steepmond traded blows with the opposing outpost on the other side of the strait, though both usually operated through stealthy or manipulative means. That was why the guards at the walls were thicker than the ones in the city. Crowley had no doubt it would be difficult to get outside the walls. Luckily, Aziraphale would have the same difficulty.

She jerked out of her musing when the light began to increase as she walked. A faint pool of torchlight peeked out from around barrels and pooled around strewn bricks and shattered stone. The rubble ahead of her was littered with guards and their torches. How was Aziraphale going to get past this?

As if in answer to her silent inquiry, a chipper voice piped from the dark street that led to the rubble. Crowley ducked back into deeper shadows as Aziraphale's form coalesced from the darkness. "I've brought your snacks!"

The guards who had been leaning or sitting at their posts straightened. Only one leveled the spear in their hand, and the guard next to them knocked it down. "That's Aziraphale!"

"No one's supposed to—"

The higher pitched voice rode over their complaint. "She's harmless; she brought food!"

Crowley could almost hear the eagerness in the voice as Aziraphale stopped in front of the guards with a basket in her grip. She used one hand to balance it on her hip as she reached inside. "Oh, are you new?"

The one who had raised their spear nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"No need to be formal. I'm Aziraphale. Like Lacey said, I bring snacks on my way to the temple."

"No one's allowed—" The guard grunted.

Lacey, the one who had apparently smacked the new guard, took the proffered wrapped package from Aziraphale's hand. "Thanks again, Aziraphale. You've got a shipment of saltpeter coming in tomorrow, don't you?"

"I do! Thank you for remembering, Lacey. I'm quite eager to experiment with it."

"Long as it doesn't smell like rotten eggs."

There was a nervous twitter of laughter as Aziraphale handed out wrapped parcels to all the guards, even the new one who took it silently. Crowley couldn't look away. "Oh, I, uh, I'm sorry about that. There shouldn't be a rotten egg smell or small fires." She laughed again. "Has it been quiet?"

"We're not expecting another attack until next month."

"It's nice that they schedule them," Aziraphale agreed. The chuckles said it was a familiar joke. "And when do we retaliate?"

"You know we can't give out that information."

"Of course!" Aziraphale leaned in, her finger tapping the side of her nose. "No spilling secrets from war councils!"

Crowley had no idea what she was doing, but she looked ridiculous. The guards were charmed judging by their relaxed postures as they opened wrappers and began to eat whatever they contained.

Aziraphale continued to talk to the guards, most of them sitting down or leaning against what was left of stone structures. Crowley wondered what game Aziraphale could possibly be playing. They were supposed to be meeting at the temple, but if Crowley had arrived earlier and snuck past the guards, she would have been waiting for Aziraphale for a long while.

One of the guards snorted, head jerking upward. Crowley leaned forward, squinting in the uncertain light. Several of the seated guards had stopped moving. The ones leaning began to slump down until they too rested on the ground.

Aziraphale went quiet for a bit, looking at the guards around her, and then she turned to glance around her. "They're asleep."

She was obviously talking to the hidden Crowley. Tucking her hands at the neck of her cape, Crowley stepped forward slightly. "Did you drug them?"

"I did, yes." she muttered. "Hurry up, please." Her hand drifted into her basket. "And don't try anything."

Crowley could guess what else she had in the basket. "I won't try anything." Her eyes strayed to the guards, slumped over or backwards in sleep. "Do you do this every time you have to go to the temple?"

"Don't you want to know." Aziraphale stepped delicately around the sleeping men and women, pressing past the rubble and onto the dirt path. "I knew you wouldn't make it past the guards without getting caught., and this is a way to show you I don't mean to turn you in."

It was effective. It was a display of power. There was a thread of respect in Crowley's voice as she followed the blonde hair lighting the way in front of her. "You, uh, do a lot of alchemy stuff, huh?"

The voice that drifted back to her held disdain. "I'm certainly not a part of the Phosphorus Guild because the name is catchy."

"The name is catchy though," Crowley quipped. She jogged a bit to catch up to Aziraphale, glancing at her sideways to see her expression. They were swallowed up by the midnight dim so that all she could see was pinched full lips drawn in a dissatisfied line. "You know for someone with a dislike for criminals, you sure do a lot of crime."

Aziraphale stopped so suddenly Crowley tripped over her feet as she spun around and glared at Aziraphale. Crowley was matched with an equally heated stare. "I will have you know," Aziraphale hissed, "that I am an upstanding citizen, and I have broken no laws!"

Crowley leaned back, gaping at Aziraphale. "Broken no—? You drugged those guards and you're hiding books that are supposed to be turned in for burning!"

"Please do quote me the law that says I cannot harmlessly administer medicine to guards—"

"Without their consent?"

"--or keep things I do not own."

"Keep things— You still have to turn in those books!"

"I don't own them. The law states all books owned must be turned in." Aziraphale tipped her chin upwards and continued walking on the dirt path.

Crowley followed behind, scrambling to catch up again. "What? How can you not own them? They're your books."

"Per the law of personal property ownership, they're no one's books."

Crowley's hands flew into the air as she felt the confusion turn into a spasm inside her head. "What do you mean they're no one's! Everything is someone's!"

Sighing, Aziraphale shot her a look that was patronizing. "The law states property is owned as long as it isn't stolen or confiscated by the government."

"What?"

Narrowing her eyes, Aziraphale punctuated her words. "Citizens were told to turn in all the books they owned for burning. I did not own any of the books because they had already been confiscated."

"You stole them?" Crowley couldn't blink as she stared at Aziraphale. "That's...the definition of criminal."

"I saved them from the government."

Ahead of them, Crowley could see the temple rising from the shadows, a nondescript building from this distance. Crowley rarely left the walls of Steepmond, but she'd been to the temple once before. It had been eleven years ago, stumbling in the darkness and grabbing the cold stone like an anchor. She had promptly retched bile on the ground, her skin crawling with a sickening sensation. She hoped it had just been because she was disoriented and panicked at the time. "You stole them from the government."

"The government hardly counts."

Crowley turned her attention back to Aziraphale. Her first impression of Aziraphale had been a snobbish, eccentric person who was fine with sticking her head in the figurative sand. That was obviously just a first impression and not the real Aziraphale. The real Aziraphale was interesting. Smirking, Crowley shoved her hands in her pockets. "So we aren't so unalike then?"

"I am nothing like you," and that disdainful glare gave Crowley a once-over that was as insulting as it was intended to be.

Crowley wasn't so sure now. "We're fighting the same war."

Aziraphale sighed, pointing ahead to the building becoming clearer. "We're almost there. Let's save the rest of the talk inside where things will be more private."

Turning her head, Crowley swallowed as she took in the two-story stone building. It had one wooden door painted a pale blue. Two windows faced them with stained glass panels of rose and gold. "We're going inside?"

Aziraphale shot her a confused look with raised brows. "You want to stand outside the doors and talk? Don't be ridiculous," Aziraphale snapped. She turned from Crowley to stalk to the door and yank it open. It slammed shut behind her with the same sharpness of her tone.

Crowley winced. She was not making the best first impression herself. The building felt like grease seeping into her skin so obviously the first time she had been here hadn't been a fluke. Either Aziraphale was feigning not being affected, or something was wrong with Crowley.

Of course something was wrong with her. She didn't even know who she'd been eleven years ago.

Rubbing her arms to rid them of the crawling sensation, she opened the door and stepped inside. As the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, breathing through the roiling of her gut.

"Come now. These dramatics are— Are you alright?"

The worried tone snapped her gaze to the left, where Aziraphale stared at her with furrowed brows. There was a row of cushioned benches she stood near with the same blue shade as the door patterning them. Candlelight cast a soothing glow over the seating that extended to the front of the temple where a grey statue of a woman with hands held outward stood. Crowley didn't feel comforted. "Feels weird. I think I want to be sick."

"What do you mean?"

Crowley heard the soft shuffle of feet to the side and frowned. "I mean if I throw up maybe I won't feel like my insides are squirming around. It feels like something crawled in my stomach and is wriggling inside." She bit at her bottom lip and finally raised her eyes to gauge the expression on Aziraphale's face. "You follow her?"

"Yes. Do you follow someone else?"

"I don't follow anyone." As both of Aziraphale's brows rose in surprise, Crowley raised a hand. "No, I mean, I don't remember if I follow someone. I don't remember anything that happened eleven years ago. I just...woke up on the cliffs and walked here."

"Come sit down. Maybe it will feel better to be off your feet. Nothing will hurt you here." Aziraphale sat on a bench, scooting over and patting the space beside her. "I thought you were just being dramatic, but it looks like you're—" Aziraphale paused, hummed, and then continued. "--allergic to Hyacinth to put it into simple words."

"Allergic?" She grimaced, pushing from the door to reach the bench and sit down. Crowley pressed her hands against her legs, smoothing her pants from thigh to knees. She swallowed thickly and then again, trying not to gag. "That sounds ridiculous." She pitched her voice in mockery of Aziraphale's earlier declaration.

"I suppose that was rather insensitive. I've read about it though." Aziraphale bit her lower lip. "Devout followers of their gods tend to feel uncomfortable around other gods. It's normal, if that helps."

It was normal. She wasn't sick. "Is it...harmful? Will it hurt or, um, kill me?"

"Oh no! It's more like your god poking your nose to get your attention. I suppose it must feel worse than that though." Aziraphale smiled, and for once the expression was genuine. Reaching down with one hand, she opened the basket that was at her feet. When Crowley flinched, she huffed, "Relax. I'm just getting something to ease your stomach."

Taking out a package, Aziraphale unwrapped a small loaf of bread. Carefully she broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing. Then she held it out to Crowley. 

It took a moment for Crowley to realize she was demonstrating it wasn't one of the drugged ones. "Oh. " Taking the loaf in her hand, Crowley took a bite. It tasted minty, which wasn't something she'd ever expected to taste in bread, but it was also sweet. "Mm, it's good!"

"That should help some. I'm sorry I didn't realize this was a genuine physical reaction."

It did make Crowley feel better, even if all the sensations didn't go away completely. Knowing they wouldn't hurt her eased tension she hadn't realized was there. The cushion under her felt more comfortable. She didn't want to gag. Even the statue looked more benign. "Thank you. That...does help."

"You really can't remember anything?"

Crowley shook her head. "No. I was actually sick when I was found. It took me years to...get to where I am now." She waved a hand in the air. "We think something happened."

"A god died."

Crowley turned to stare at Aziraphale and nodded. "Yeah. We think...it's connected."

Aziraphale turned to frown down at her shoes. She was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "We're nothing alike. Your organization wants to upset everything. You're anarchists."

Holding up a finger, Crowley narrowed her eyes. "You just said stealing from the government didn't count."

"That's...not the same thing."

Pursing her lips, Crowley shrugged. "To the government it is."

Sighing, Aziraphale pulled at the bottom of her shirt. "I suppose you're right there. The punishment would be the same."

"I just want to protect the knowledge you have. I swear it!"

"You want to use it," Aziraphale countered.

"For no more than what you just used it for. Do you think anyone else told me I felt this way because I serve another god? No one knew!" Her voice became louder. "They burn it all. Sometimes they don't even wait for their time to rule."

"I know," Aziraphale whispered. "I've saved a lot of information. I don't...understand why they do it."

"Ah, you see that's propaganda! Their reasons for it!"

"It's all propaganda," Aziraphale countered, frowning at her. "Even your little rebellion is propaganda!"

"It is not! We'll stop the burning of books!"

"And then what? You'll stop it in this town and then the capital brings in their army to quell the dissension. People will die that had nothing to do with this!"

Crowley didn't immediately respond. Sighing, she leaned back, rubbing at her arms again. "Everyone—" Shaking her head, she continued. It would be crass to say everyone died. She didn't mean it. "Do you want us to just hide from the world? Take all the knowledge and keep it from everyone? That's no different than destroying it. And you can't spread it all on your own." With a gasp, Crowley sat up. "Not all on your own, but with a group you could!"

Aziraphale cast her a dubious look. "What?"

"What if we distributed your knowledge? I mean, what if we made that our purpose?"

"You're just going to change your entire purpose because of me?" Aziraphale's face went pinched.

"Well, not just because of you. See the organization isn't just me running it. It's this whole, um, web-like system." She wiggled her fingers across the air as an example. "I don't really deal with all that, but a purpose— I've been looking for a purpose. Most rebellions just want to overthrow what exists…." Crowley trailed off. "I've just wanted to find out what happened to me, and then it became finding out what happened eleven years ago, and now— Don't you wonder what happened?"

Aziraphale stared at her for a moment, lips parted, and then nodded. Her hushed words carried just to Crowley's hearing. "Yes. Of course I do. It was a horrible moment. I was here when it happened."

"Y-you were?"

Aziraphale nodded. "I was...speaking with Hyacinth. I think she felt it. She left, and she hasn't come back since."

From what Catherine had told Crowley, they could speak to their gods in their places of worship. They didn't always answer, but the gods always listened. "You've tried talking to her again?"

"Yes. She doesn't answer." Aziraphale fiddled with the end of his shirt again. "I think it hurt her, what happened."

Crowley nodded. "Isn't...she the, um, opposite of—? You know."

"Yes. She is the opposite of the Dusk god who...died."

"Don't you wonder why?"

"Why...what?"

"Why everything. One of their own died, and they're burning potential evidence of what happened. No one really talks about it. Why aren't they trying to find out what happened? If they know, why burn the knowledge of it so we don't know? Are they afraid? What are they afraid of? How does a god die?"

Aziraphale shifted in her seat, her voice tremulous. "Not every question needs answers. Some things just...are."

"That's— No," Crowley insisted. "Not having an answer to a question just means we don't know enough. Look," Crowley continued, turning in her seat to face Aziraphale, "I thought something was wrong with me, but you knew what was probably going on and told me, and I felt better. I mean, I still feel like bugs are under my skin, but I know why now. More than that, I know I probably did follow another god. Someday I'll even find out who!"

Aziraphale tucked her chin to her chest,frowning hard at the bench in front of her. "So you want to spread the knowledge?"

"Yes. I want to make copies."

"That's...very dangerous."

"I'm already in danger. Lagh wants me, and I don't know why." She sighed. "I don't want to put you in more danger. Just...let me copy the books? I just need to know. I need answers."

Aziraphale frowns. "But others in your group want more."

Falling quiet, Crowley rolled her shoulders. Catherine was adamant about her own goals for the group. Crowley had agreed to them because she was right about the oppression. Crowley had no reason to disbelieve her when she could see the evidence of it in Steepmond. "Yes, they do."

Aziraphale raised a brow, staring at her intently until Crowley finally quelled. "What do you want me to do?" Crowley's voice echoed off the walls. "They saved me! They gave me a place and kept me safe, and they had no reason to! I want to know who I was. I want to remember what happened. You can't tell me any of this makes actual sense. You can't tell me you're okay with this."

"The rule of Lagh and Croithi is almost over," Aziraphale gritted out. Her hands clenched at her legs until her knuckles whitened.

"And what's next?" Crowley softened her voice. "This isn't going to stop. It's a huge rock that's been rolling down a hill before I even got here. I've made it gather speed. I can't stop it."

"Does that bother you?"

"A little," Crowley admitted. "It's-it's scary." These were things she'd never admitted to Catherine. Catherine worked to make a better world for her children. Crowley couldn't deny her that. "I didn't know what all this meant when it began, but I can't back out of it now. I agree with it. Something needs to change."

"I think we might be able to come to an agreement."

Crowley felt her stomach flip, something not caused by the temple, and smiled. "Yeah? I could do an agreement."

"Only you would have access to the books. Copying the books will be a lot of work. I'll need space. The books and scrolls will stay hidden. I'll bring them bit by bit to the location. We'll copy what I approve of. You will distribute it to everyone regardless if they are a member of your group."

Crowley didn't think Catherine would like this agreement, but Catherine wasn't making these decisions. Crowley twisted her hands in her lap and opened her mouth to speak. She needed Aziraphale to understand. "Only what you approve of?" She squared her shoulders and shook her head. "No. There shouldn't be anything we can't copy."

"There are dangerous works—"

"And we'll review them all and determine how and when to distribute them together, but we'll copy everything. Listen, I know there's dangerous knowledge. I don't even know what kind of person I used to be—" She didn't know how to finish that sentence, and it sounded despondent.

"What person do you want to be?"

Crowley blinked at the bench in front of her, turned to stare at Aziraphale, and grimaced. "That's….such a platitude."

Smiling softly, Aziraphale nodded. "It is, but it is no less sound a question. Who do you want to be? The answer is you obviously don't want to be a person who made bad things happen on purpose."

"How can you be sure?"

"I can't." Aziraphale fidgeted in her seat, sighed, and shrugged. "So...we'll copy everything. And I'll want one more thing."

Crowley tensed, preparing for the additional request. "Yeah?"

"That place you find for the texts to be copied...I also want it for alchemical experiments. You probably heard there are side effects, bad smells and small explosions among them. I need to keep it more contained."

"I was told you're in trouble with your Guild."

"Not," Aziraphale huffed, "in trouble, per say. I follow the rules."

Crowley snorted.

"It's just that I'm close to...something. I'm close to something big. The Guild provides funding and support. They give me supplies. They also...monitor me."

"So you want a secret place to do this stuff in." Crowley paused. "It couldn't be in the city."

"I can get in and out of the city easily."

"I can't."

Aziraphale pursed her lips. "You could. I didn't know if you knew the way. If you had, you would have ended just outside this temple."

"Wait, but you knew I was at the wall."

Aziraphale smiled. "I didn't. I just called out, and you answered."

Crowley raised a hand to run it over her face and heard Aziraphale chuckle. "You're...very sneaky."

"Thank you."

She let her hand fall onto her lap and shared in Aziraphale's smile. "So does this mean I get to know this secret path, or do I have to go back to the hard way?"

"I'll show you." Aziraphale stood, brushing at her pants as she studied them. "But...they'll all be moved so don't think you can just take them."

"Take them?"

Sighing, Aziraphale bent down to retrieve her basket, cradling it in her arms. "At least I know you won't come here without feeling discomfort. I can believe you won't use this to ferry in Dusk followers."

"Hey," Crowley protested, pointing a finger at Aziraphale, "I am not a Dusk follower."

Aziraphale's voice went soft. "If you were, you wouldn't remember it."

"Yeah." Crowley glanced down.

"So, the secret. Move." Aziraphale's voice was brighter as she shooed her basket at Crowley. Backing up, Crowley let her out of the row. She followed Aziraphale out the door and then around the side of the temple. The back was nondescript, the unkempt grass brushing their legs as they walked. "It's here."

Crowley watched curiously as Aziraphale set down the basket and knelt, pushing away the tall grass to reveal a grey stone. It wasn't until Aziraphale grabbed the edge and pulled it away that Crowley realized it was actually a cloth. "Oh!"

Aziraphale turned to beam at her, and then returned to the task of sliding the cloth away to reveal a sewer grate.

"Ew," Crowley moaned in dread, "sewers?"

"I didn't say it was a good path. Just don't rub up against the walls. It's abandoned so it's dry. It runs into the city. Before you get to the street's bigger pipes, there's a hole where it's broken. That will keep you away from the wet mess in the other pipes."

Crowley wrinkled her nose. "I've used the other pipes for emergencies. The stench wouldn't leave my nose for a month!"

Aziraphale laughed; Crowley liked the sound. "That sounds dreadful. You shouldn't have any of that here. Next week come and visit me again. We'll talk...inside."

"Inside your home?"

"Yes. The alley isn't a good place. We need to discuss where this place will be. It can't be inside the city, and I have a couple ideas.."

"You know a lot about outside the city."

Aziraphale raised her gaze from the hole in the ground to Crowley and nodded. "I do. When you go down, don't stop to gawk at what you see. I've catalogued all of them. I'll know if you take any of them, and then the whole deal is off."

This time, Crowley didn't ask for clarification. She was beginning to guess what Aziraphale meant. Nodding, she moved to peer over the lip of the grate. "Alright. I won't take anything. I won't stop to stare. I'll go right home. I'll see you next week."

Bending over, she sat on the edge before twisting her body to face it and grab with both hands. She paused before she lowered herself, arms shaking a little as she held herself up. "Will you be alright? The guards won't get you in trouble?"

"I'll walk right past them. If they wake, I'll lay down near them. I'll say we talked ourselves to sleep. They won't suspect anything if I feign sleep." Aziraphale shifted to pick up the ends of the cloth. "Off you go. Maybe next week I'll have something for you to read. I have to find the right text."

Crowley felt sudden strength in her limbs as she grinned. "You will? Good! Thank you! I mean, of course, I'll make sure we start getting everything ready for wherever you want this place too." She lowered herself then, until her fingers strained at the lip of the sewer. Then she let herself go, bending her knees as her feet struck the bottom.

It wasn't a long drop, and there wasn't a hint of water under her feet. She couldn't even hear it dripping, and she'd been in enough sewers to know what to listen for. "It's dry," she called up.

"I wouldn't lie about that," came the wry response.

Crowley peered up at the amused smile looking down at her. "I know! There's probably rats though!"

"No rats. There are snakes."

"Oh, I like snakes."

That produced a surprised noise and then a pout. Crowley had an idea that she was being teased but it had been unsuccessful. "Do you know how to not get bit?"

"Snakes don't bite me!" She realized it was strange to sound offended, but she'd never met a snake that she didn't like and didn't like her in return.

A strange expression crossed Aziraphale's face. "Oh...well okay. Do be safe." She was ducking backwards, darkness descending over the space Crowley stood as Aziraphale covered the opening.

"I could use a light," Crowley muttered to no one. She turned from the opening and waited for inky blobs and dancing shadows to resolve into walls. She was in an alcove that opened in one direction to a chamber. There was nothing but stone covered in a thin coating of plant life around her.

She looked at the ground but saw stray pieces of rock under her feet. Kicking one experimentally, she watched it rattle over the ground and bounce off a far wall in the darkness. Crowley frowned as she stepped from the alcove into the chamber.

She gaped. The walls were lined with bookshelves and cubbyholes where books and scrolls nestled prim and safe. This was why Aziraphale had been nervous she might know this secret route. This is why she'd been cryptic earlier, and while Crowley had suspected, this was beyond her imagination.

How had Aziraphale collected all this? The shelves were modest, the cubicles for the scrolls were maybe three dozen, but it was the biggest collection she'd seen yet. She knew she'd promised not to gawk, but Aziraphale couldn't possibly expect she wouldn't step closer to look.

She did so now, tilting her head to peer at the spines. Most of the leather-bound books didn't even have titles, just scrolled work that spoke of a love for book binding. Frowning, she leaned in. This didn't match up. To amass this much would take years, and these book bindings looked relatively fresh.

To be fair, she didn't know a lot about books, but they had managed to recover some. They'd been cracked and broken around the spine, the pages browned, torn, and sometimes sticking together. She couldn't see the state of the paper, but something felt off. The scrolls were all cased up, neatly lined with about four scrolls to each cubicle. The scroll casings looked new.

Had Aziraphale not only been collecting and hiding these books but also up-keeping them? How did she have the resources and funds for that? More importantly, what personal reason did she have for doing it?

Crowley needed to get back. Catherine would be worried. She'd have found out Crowley had left by now. She'd be livid. Telling her they had possession of the books — sort of — would be sure to lighten her mood. Crowley also needed to avoid daylight, though she was sure it was still a while away.

Regretfully leaving the books behind, Crowley exited the chamber to head down the pipe. As she walked away from the temple, the earlier sickening sensations faded. Then she was nearing the end of the pipe. Ahead of her, she could hear the sound of water. There was a broken hole to one side of the pipe she was in.

Climbing through the hole, she raised herself up and over the crack. A bush was planted to block the view of the opening from the street. Crowley stared at it for a moment, brushing her fingers against the leaves before smirking.

Aziraphale was clever indeed. Perhaps Catherine wouldn't trust how clever, but Crowley liked it. It was thrilling. It was possible their entire work could take a new direction. For a decade she'd been treading water, focused on her lost memories. She certainly couldn't blame herself for that, but maybe focusing on that was the wrong way.

Change was something she craved suddenly, now that she had a chance for it. She'd have to tread carefully of course. That was what Catherine was for. She'd have a week to convince her, and then threaten to do it without her if Catherine continued to be stubborn. Catherine had to see reason though.

As she approached the back alley of her home, Crowley felt excited for the first time in a while. She could believe. There was nothing wrong with feeling uplifted by that belief. She could worry about logistics later. Crowley was so engrossed in her postulating that when she turned from locking the back door, she failed to perceive she wasn't alone in her kitchen.

With a soft click, light flooded the room, forcing Crowley to squint. At the clearing throat at her back, Crowley whirled around, back pressing against the door frame. She gawped at Catherine who was sitting in a chair next to a table lamp.

Catherine's hand slowly drifted from the cord of the lamp to lie in her lap. She looked much too calm, the smile on her face tight and shoulders tense. "Well? How did the meeting go?"

"Uh," Crowley hemmed, knowing a trap when she heard one, "good? It went really well. It wasn't a trap for starters." She stepped into the room and jumped when Catherine crossed one leg over the other. "Also we've got books."

"Do we?"

"Yes. Kind of. I'm really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?"

"No. Sit." She pointed to a chair across from her.

Sighing, Crowley shuffled to the chair, slouching petulantly. "I'm not a child."

"No. You're the leader of this organization—"

"--more like an icon—"

"--and you need to act like one," she snapped.

Crowley sat up straighter, narrowing her eyes. "I am acting like one! We needed those books." She held up a hand to forestall Catherine's interruption. "We need those books, not just me. Did you know that when you get close to the temple of a god you don't serve, you feel ill? I didn't know that. Aziraphale knew that. She read it in her books, and I saw the books. We've worked out a deal. It's a good one."

Catherine drew in a breath and then released it. "Crowley, is it really a good deal?"

Crowley hated starting to doubt herself. She felt it creeping at the edges and tried to ruthlessly crush it down. She hated that Catherine's question made her feel she didn't trust Crowley. "Yes!" Her hands flew into the air. "Of course it is!"

Catherine's mouth thinned into a pinched line. "You're yelling."

"I'm angry! You treat me like a valuable object to be locked in a vault. I'm not. I'm a person. I want to do things!"

Catherine's lips parted, she licked them, and then she nodded. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that." She was using the voice she used on her children when they threw a tantrum. "I'm sorry."

"Now you're being reasonable, and I still want to be mad!"

"You can be mad."

Crowley shoved out of her chair, almost knocking it over. She stalked to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed some milk to pour into a glass. "I want to rest. Can I rest?"

"Yes. Get some rest." Crowley heard the noise of the chair scraping against the floor.

Turning, she sipped at the milk and stared at Catherine. She felt her brows draw down, tense enough to start a headache behind her eyes.

"I really am sorry." Catherine's eyes were soft. She looked as tired as Crowley felt.

Sighing, Crowley lowered her glass. "It'll be fine. We'll talk about this. Just...trust me more? I want what's best for all of us too."

"I know. You're my friend. I worry about you, and it gets in the way."

"Alright, alright. You're getting soft." Pressing the toe of her shoe on the floor, Crowley waved a hand at Catherine. "Go hug your kids. Tomorrow we'll talk and hug it out then. Give me some time to pace and rant to nothing."

Shaking her head with a chuckle, Catherine moved to the door. She paused as she opened it. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad I'm okay to," Crowley quipped, but the smile they shared was congenial. Catherine left with a small wave and Crowley was left with her milk. Draining it, she started toward her study.

It was likely she wouldn't get any sleep. The adventure and argument afterwards had her too riled. She really did want to rant to the walls about the way Catherine had treated her and how it made her feel. She didn't doubt the two of them would work it out, either tomorrow or sometime after.

On a better note, in a week she would see Aziraphale — whether Catherine agreed to it or not — and she was determined she'd have a new direction for their group.

Lifting her head up to the ceiling, Crowley cried out without care for her own volume, "I can't believe she asked if it was really a good deal!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a lot of editing here. Not only for hilarious typos such as:  
> Catherine's hand slowly drifted from the cord of the lamp to lie in her lamp.  
> and  
> She looked much to clam, the smile on her face tight and her shoulders tense.
> 
> but also deleting entire paragraphs of info-dump. I hope the result is something concise and enjoyable. I wanted to highlight character interactions here with a little more reveal of the world. If anything is unclear, let me know. :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have scheduled a meeting to put into place their plans for a location outside of Steepmond. No plan set into motion ever goes smoothly, and the patrols have been strengthened. The meeting has to happen early. That's all well and good, except Crowley still has mysterious happenings dogging her every step, and this is a bad time for one of them to happen.

"There's rumors that the leader of the rebellion was seen sneaking through the streets."

Groaning, Crowley let her head fall into her arms, listening to Catherine's footfalls as she stepped into the room and sat down across from Crowley's desk. Crowley lifted up her head, flinging her arms into the air as her chair creaked in protest. "You mean they saw me," she hissed.

"Yes, I mean they saw you. Or," she drew out the pause until Crowley narrowed her eyes and huffed, "they think they saw you. The report came in yesterday."

"And it's been three days since I was out."

"Yes. It's possibly just a rumor, but rumor or not Duke Madoc ordered an increase in patrols with the addition of Pursuants."

"Shit!"

"That's an apt word. It's going to delay the supplies smuggled in. It also means they're waiting for another incident so the Pursuants can run a sweep again."

Crowley waved away the last part. She didn't have time to worry about just herself. "We don't have a timetable or a location yet anyways. When I meet with Aziraphale, we're supposed to go over this."

"Maybe you shouldn't—"

Crowley stood suddenly, chair rattling backwards in protest. "I'm not—"

"I didn't mean—"

"--going to stop just because I'm threatened!"

"--to insinuate you couldn't do it."

Crowley heaved in a breath, turning away as the knot lodged under her ribs increased its pressure. The earlier fight strained the space between them, but Crowley didn't know how to solve that when she didn't want to give in to Catherine's concerns for her safety. Running a hand through her hair, Crowley moved back to her chair and sat down. "So what do we do about it?"

"We can run the distraction technique," Catherine responded, her hands wound tightly in her lap.

Crowley nodded. "Just make sure they actually wear the red wigs under their cloaks." It was a good diversion, having multiple members dress like Crowley and run around the city at night. It was a known tactic, and still dangerous if Crowley was caught, but it worked. "Will I need to relocate?"

"I don't think so. Do you feel an episode coming on?"

Crowley grimaced and shook her head. "They don't always give a warning. You remember last month was flowers springing up behind someone as they walked down the road."

"The Pursuants couldn't track that one as easily. It was like a minor trick or...something," Catherine stumbled over the explanation. "It was an entire block suddenly as bright as daylight that got us into trouble."

"Yeah." Crowley wrinkled her nose because she couldn't define what happened any better. Given that Pursuants tracked the magically deviant, it should've been a simple case of someone not reaching out to their god for the magic. At each instance, however, they had found the trail didn't lead to the one magic happened to, but closer to Crowley. The only thing that revealed was that Crowley was somehow responsible. Neither she nor Catherine had an idea how. "Do we have a place ready just in case?"

"Yes, but…." Catherine trailed off, glancing off to the side to study the papers stacked inelegantly on the desk.

"But," Crowley prompted.

"It's being watched."

Crowley groaned. "How? We're careful!"

Catherine tossed her hands up, making eye contact with Crowley as she got louder too. "I don't know! Maybe it's getting dangerous!" She pressed her lips into a tight line and raised a hand to massage her forehead. "I'm sorry. It's just— I'm hearing what's happening first-hand in some cases. Duke Madoc's being pressured to quell this rebellion too, and the magical deviance is a riddle that's reaching the Senate in the capital."

Crowley leaned back in her seat, chewing on her bottom lip. She knew where this was all leading. Relocating to a new place, whether it was a home like this or the corner of a warehouse, was habitual at this point. Being confined— "Catherine?"

Sighing, Catherine nodded. "I know what you're going to say so go ahead and say it."

Crowley glared at Catherine, aborting what she was going to say to argue, "I never think you're taking me seriously when you say that."

"Crowley—"

"It's getting dangerous for everyone else too, for you and for your children. I can't risk you all. I can easily leave the city. I'm just a symbol here. It's easy to keep a symbol alive. It's easy to spread stories and songs of my exploits elsewhere."

"And who would you take with you? Where would you go? How would you earn an income?"

"No one, anywhere, and I'd think of something!"

"That's not good enough!"

"We're not going to have a choice soon, and I'm not going to be stuck here!" Crowley's hands slammed onto the desk, causing Catherine to flinch. "We've been barely avoiding capture for the last five years. Despite them focusing on Dusk attacks on the city's walls, they're catching onto us. They're figuring out our tactics."

"I know," Catherine placated, holding up her hands. "I know we do. We're close though. Duke Madoc is losing the support of the military officers. The capital is whispering. He is losing political support."

"And then what," Crowley snapped.

Catherine blinked, her eyebrows rising as she sank back in her seat. "And then we take the seat of power in Steepmond."

"And then?"

"I— What are you asking, Crowley?" Catherine's tone turned chill.

"I'm asking what happens when we control Steepmond. All the guards and soldiers are Lagh's. They won't follow us. We'll have to imprison them and anyone else who resists. Then we send demands to the capital, and they laugh at us and send an army to quell us."

"We'll fight them."

"People will die!" Crowley's hands crumpled the papers scattered on her desk. "I've known what you wanted for years and didn't say anything because I didn't know of a better way. Now I'm starting to think of one!"

"To...copy the texts? You mentioned that. What—" Catherine sighed, drew a breath in, and motioned to the papers. "What does that mean? Explain your plan to me."

"It isn't a fully formed one," Crowley admitted. "I just— I need knowledge. I need it because if I get it, I might understand why I'm here and what my place is in what's happening now. How many other people wonder that, Catherine? Didn't-didn't you figure that out?"

"I suppose."

"But how did you figure that out? It didn't come out of nowhere. You slowly...gained the knowledge that something was wrong. You gained the-the fear that your children would have to live in a world where something was wrong."

Biting at her bottom lip, Catherine nodded. "You want to grow our army," she stated.

Crowley didn't like the way that was worded, but this was how Catherine thought. That's why she had been stationed here. It was why she had the ears of the garrison's officers. Her late husband had only been a boost in that direction that she'd grasped for her the rebellion's purpose. "Simply put, yes. More than that, these texts are tools. We'll copy them. I want to make them all available because if they can help you and me, they can help everyone."

"We don't even know what all of them are."

"We'll catalogue them. We'll create a system or something to put them in categories. We'll figure out how to organize them." Reaching forward, she held out her hands to Catherine until she hesitantly put her own in reach for Crowley to clasp. "Aziraphale will want this. I've seen her collection. It's marvelous!"

"We could...just take it."

Crowley wanted to protest, but they had been friends for over a decade. She understood where Catherine stood morally. She understood if it came down to Aziraphale not negotiating, the size of the collection she had made it an option. "I promised her, Catherine. I...I like her. I want to give her a chance."

"You like her?" Catherine raised a brow, resting back in her chair.

Crowley scowled because of course Catherine wanted to focus on the juicy bit she'd dropped. "I do! There's nothing wrong with that! I like you!"

"All you did after meeting her through an open window was complain for two days," she commented dryly.

"She was rude! She called me a criminal!"

"Well, technically…." At Crowley's warning huff, Catherine broke off. "And after an hour-long meeting you like her?"

"She's still very snooty, but...she helped me. She loves the books she's collected—"

"Loves?"

"She takes good care of them. I think she...repairs them?"

"She repairs them?"

"I saw the books. I wasn't supposed to gawk, but I had to look. The scrolls all had new cases and the books didn't have cracked and worn spines or covers," she babbled, pointing to a nearby book that was falling apart. Then she brought her hands together in a loud clap. Catherine jumped. "I know! I can bring one of my books."

"Yes?"

Crowley didn't register the tone. "She's bringing a book for me so I'll bring one for her."

"You're exchanging gifts?"

Crowley's attention snapped back to Catherine to see a befuddled look. "What? No! She's bringing a book I can use; I'll bring one she can repair. It's an even exchange."

"Okay," Catherine agreed. "Do you think you should see her sooner rather than later?"

Crowley leaned back in her seat. "You think I should? I thought you didn't want me going out."

"I don't. I don't want you endangering yourself. You're important. I know that annoys you. I know it has to be— I have kids. I know how frustrating it can be to not be able to just do something."

Crowley felt all her edges soften. When she had first met Catherine, they had both been eleven years younger. There had been a long while where Catherine and she had run together, out in the streets to steal goods and spread information and misinformation alike. After marrying, Crowley hadn't known what to expect, but Catherine had resumed her role from behind a desk. Crowley had followed out of habit, unsure what her role in the rebellion was even as its members decided that for her.

"There's the sewers," Crowley offered.

"The sewers? What about them? We've used them a couple times. They're always filled with, well, shit. It makes people sick." Catherine frowned. "It's only for emergencies. The aqueducts are the best we can hope for travel."

"And it's travel the Duke will guess at. The same with the sewers, I know, but what if we made our own paths?"

Catherine frowned. "You mean dig through the sewers?"

"I mean there are unused parts of the sewers. Places that were closed up because they were too damaged by raids, but if we had the diagrams or maps we can connect places. Then it won't be as much work."

Catherine pursed her lips. "It's an idea. Where will we get old diagrams from?"

Crowley bit at her lower lip. "I might know how to get them. Let me try to get them."

Narrowing her eyes, Catherine stared at Crowley hard. "It's from Aziraphale, isn't it?"

"Yes." Crowley frowned and fiddled with the papers in front of her, flattening what she had crushed.

"And you said you saw the books."

"Catherine—"

"It's okay. For now, it's okay. I won't make any plans to steal them, Crowley, for as long as we get Aziraphale's cooperation. If that stops—"

"Even I'll be forced to admit we need a new plan. I'll be the first to know if it starts to sour. Our agreement, I mean. We'll think of something then." Crowley smiled. "So...I should probably go and see her again. If things are going to be delayed, I don't want her to think we're not going to hold up our end. Plus we might be able to use them keeping an eye out for me as a distraction to get the building we want set up."

"And did you two discuss the money involved with that?" Catherine raised a brow as she leaned back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.

"Uh," Crowley began, "yes because money is an important part of this project, and funding is scarce, so of course I'm going to talk about money!"

"You forgot."

"Yes, I did, but you know I get excited—"

"If we're working on the sewers then we can't also build an entire building out of scratch."

"Of course not, but Aziraphale sounded as if she knew a spot. I assumed it would have a building or a structure? Maybe a run-down, abandoned place." Crowley threaded her fingers together and smiled. "If this is a cost thing, you know I'll bring it to you!"

"I know. I know. You just don't...consider money sometimes."

"Well I get my allowance from you, mom."

"Please don't call me that," Catherine groaned.

Crowley chuckled. "Alright. Listen, it's probably going to help us both if I go and talk to her tomorrow. Is that okay? We can use the diversion."

Humming, Catherine nodded. "Fine. I'll let them know about it tonight. Tomorrow you will wait until evening. Since it's early, we'll also send a message to Aziraphale."

"Thank you. I'll get ready myself. Maybe I'll take some notes too." She glanced at her paper-strewn desk and winced. "I mean, maybe I'll get something neat put together."

Catherine pursed her lips to smother a grin. "I think she should be prepared for the mess that demonstrates how you think."

Crowley flung up her hands, scowling at Catherine without any heat. "I think just fine! I'm not...scatter-brained. I just have tangent ideas and questions."

"You have nothing but questions."

"And soon I might have some answers!" Crowley smiled.

Catherine smiled back at her. "I hope you do." There was a soft note to her voice, but she pushed back through it. "I better get back before they burn down the house."

"You shouldn't have taught them how to cook food."

"I didn't teach them that. You did," Catherine reminded her with a smile. "Will you come over tomorrow afternoon?"

"How about the morning after? I'd rather they see me leave here than your place."

Catherine nodded, standing and then shifted on her feet. "Okay, can I have a hug?"

Crowley stood immediately, moving around her desk to embrace Catherine. "Of course you can. We're going to fight, but we'll always be friends."

"Yes. I know. I hate that we fight."

"I do too. We'll work this out."

"Later."

"Later," Crowley agreed. "Now go tell the kids I'm coming in two days to tell them stories."

"They'll love that. See you soon, Crowley."

"Yes, you will," Crowley chirped. She sat down after Catherine had left, gathering together some papers with scribbled notes, and then retrieving a fresh pad of paper to write them down neater.

* * *

This time Crowley was able to come to the front door, hunching towards the wood as she knocked. It swung open without a sound as a hand reached out, grabbing her cloak to yank her into a dark room. She squeaked.

"Ssh," the darkness hissed as the door clicked shut and was locked and then bolted.

"You yanked me!" She shook herself free of the grasp and stumbled away from the voice. Something struck her back and wobbled.

"Be careful!" A hand grabbed her to pull her away from tall, square shadows before releasing her.

"Why are we in the dark," Crowley retorted. She squinted as with a harsh hiss a flame burst to life an inch from her face. It was held into a lantern until the wick caught and a soft glow coated the room. Aziraphale's frown was highlighted in light and shadow. "What did I run into?"

"A shelf full of chemicals."

Crowley's eyes widened as she turned to stare at the cabinet filled with bottles of colored liquid. "That doesn't seem safe!"

"It's perfectly safe if no one bumps into it. Did you expect I'd shove a light outside where a passing patrol might see?"

"Or a person?"

Aziraphale sighed. "I heard the rumors, yes. I know you were careful. There was no word the next day of a sighting. This is likely just a rumor."

"Duke Madoc isn't happy."

"Of course he isn't. Would you enjoy hearing someone who wanted to overthrow you and openly flaunted rebellion of your god was flitting around town without a care?"

Crowley rubbed the back of her head, remembered she had a cloak on, and brought the hood down. "No, but I don't like to think from his point of view."

Aziraphale pushed out her lips, but then she nodded. "I suppose that is fair. There are many points of view I don't like to consider. We shouldn't stand here and blither on though. Let's go upstairs." Aziraphale turned, holding the lantern above her head as she led the way.

Crowley followed the light creating a halo around Aziraphale's head. Behind the counter, there was a spiral staircase that went to the upper floor. It did creak as their feet pressed into it, and Crowley cluing to the rail as it shuddered. "Blither?"

Aziraphale shot a look down at her as she ascended to the second story, holding out a hand to bring Crowley level with her. "Yes. To talk without aim."

"I know what it means. I don't think anyone says it anymore."

"That's neither here nor there. Come and sit down. There's a couch."

There was a couch. It looked, like many other things in the small room with a pitched ceiling, to have seen better days. When Crowley sat on the ratty thing, it held her weight admirably and did not moan. She stretched her feet out and caught Aziraphale's gaze on her legs. She didn't move them, and Aziraphale did not protest. "I'm glad you understand that things happened."

"As soon as you enact plans, they tend to go sideways. You simply have to adjust. It's not always easy." Aziraphale sat down at a desk chair behind a writing desk, turning it to face Crowley. "Are we able to adjust?"

"I think so. I wanted to make sure. Also," Crowley explained, twisting to grab her messenger bag and set it on her lap, "I brought gifts, er, research material!"

Aziraphale jerked in a strange way, a full body tremor that ended with wide eyes. "O-oh? Research materials?"

"Yes," Crowley enunciated. "You said you would have a book for me, if you had time to get it, so I thought I would bring...a book I have and some notes of things I've noticed happening." Reaching into the satchel, she pulled out the battered book one-handed.

Aziraphale made a distressed noise as she stood, shuffling quickly to stand in front of Crowley. "Be careful!" Her own hands darted out to clasp each edge of the book. "Oh, I don't have gloves," she despaired, taking the book gently from Crowley's relaxed hold. "Goodness this spine is ruined!"

"Ah," Crowley sat with her hand still outstretched, watching Aziraphale move back to her desk and clear the top of it with a sweep of her hand. Before she could say anything else, the book was lying flat, gloves were produced from a drawer, and Aziraphale placed a pair of dainty spectacles on her nose. Crowley rose from her seat to stand at her side, staring in amazement at the studious picture Aziraphale made. "Um, what are you doing?"

"Taking stock of how much damage needs to be repaired. What is this brown stain? It's relatively fresh."

"Wine. That's my fault."

Aziraphale turned a glare so fierce on Crowley she shrank back. "You will never eat or drink around another book again!"

"O-okay," Crowley stammered. "I felt bad afterwards!"

Sniffing, Aziraphale turned back to the book. "Imagine needing books, saving them, only to mishandle them so. The pages are ruined. This will need to be copied anew."

"Most of the text is fine. That's...the worst out of the bunch."

"Why would you bring me your worst?"

"Because you seem to repair them really well...and everything's going to be easier after this one."

Aziraphale grimaced as she unstuck two pages carefully with a tool Crowley didn't recognize. "I suppose it is the thought that counts." She glanced at Crowley and leaned back, her lips softening. "Thank you for bringing me this. I do repair them really well. Did you stop to gawk?"

"Yes. I couldn't help it. I've never seen books so beautiful."

Aziraphale pursed her lips and nodded. "You would only remember the burning of them. The newest books are the easiest to find and dispose of. The older ones have been kept away from previous burnings."

"How did you find yours?"

"I have traveled a lot."

Crowley rocked on her feet. "Really? All over or just…?"

"I have traveled to many places. I was born in the capital. I was sent out at an early age, and I never settled. When I joined the Phosphorus Guild, they wanted me back at the Capital, but I prefer to travel."

"And they agreed to let you travel?" Crowley moved back to the couch, sinking down into the cushions as Aziraphale turned to follow her.

She reached up a hand to remove her glasses and held them in her lap. "No."

"No? They said no?"

"They didn't say it in so many words, and I didn't refuse in so many words. The written word can be a powerful tool for talking around what you mean. When I didn't return, I'm sure they reread my words and inferred my actual response."

Crowley chuckled. "You're sneaky."

Smirking, Aziraphale leaned back in her chair. "You've said that before. You said you had notes?"

"Yes!" She reached into her bag and pulled out the pad of paper. "I made them neater. I was told to bring you my raw thoughts, but I figured one worst thing to give you was enough for now." She stood again, walking to hand the notepad over.

"What are these notes on?" The glasses slid back on as Aziraphale took the notepad and opened it, staring at the handwritten text. "Ah, your penmanship is nice," she marveled.

Crowley smiled, pleased at the compliment. "It's mostly notes on observations...about myself."

"About yourself—? Wait, you think—?" Aziraphale kept pausing as she stopped to read something. "You think strange occurrences are happening because of you?"

"You remember when a man fell out of the sky?"

"I vaguely recall some poor guard being injured and having claimed to be in his home beforehand. I thought it was drunken ranting."

"It happened to a woman. She was a member of our rebellion. She said she--" Crowley inhaled. "She said she wished a man would just...be there? Something like that."

Aziraphale huffed, folding her hands on top of the notepad. "That's just circumstantial."

"But it's happened a lot! Sometimes small, and sometimes big. It's all people wanting things and getting them!"

"And they are all members of the," Aziraphale grimaced, "Order of the Serpents?"

"Yes. Why'd you make that face?"

Aziraphale's expression stretched into surprise. "What face?"

"You looked disgusted...about the name? Why?" Crowley was proud her voice betrayed no offense.

"Well if you must know the name of your group is atrocious."

"Excuse me," Crowley hissed. So much for no offense….

"It is! Order of the Serpents." Aziraphale scoffed, turning to set the notepad on her desk. "It's wordy. It's inelegant. It sounds evil."

"I-I can't believe— How could you—" Crowley spluttered.

"How could I give you a valid critique? Yes, how horrible." When Aziraphale turned, she was smirking at Crowley. "Re-branding is what you want to do. Re-branding is what you should do."

"Re-branding?" Crowley sat down, frowning at Aziraphale. "You mean changing our focus?"

"Yes. I mean exactly that. You're going into a different direction. You need to change the narrative. Right now your rebellion is merely a group of ragtag punks that put honest people out of work and slaughter innocents."

"We don't do that!"

Aziraphale raised a brow. "Not intentionally, but that matters little to public perception. You need to re-brand."

Crowley didn't think they did that unintentionally either. "You think just a name-change will do that?" Crowley clutched her hands tightly in her lap.

"It's a start. It's good to get your enemies to side with your re-branding. Otherwise they will spread propaganda that there are two groups, dissension among the ranks, or ignore the new name altogether."

"How do we do that?"

"You use the people. You don't spread the name. They do. You plant people to— Aren't you the mastermind of this rebellion?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

Crowley felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Ah, yes. I mean, my friend does most of that work. She does the behind the scene stuff." She bit her lip at the argument still simmering under her skin. "I kind of woke up and the rebellion had formed around me?"

"What?" Aziraphale tilted her head as her brow puckered.

"I was sick. I was fevered and delirious. My friend heard stuff I said. She took notes. Those notes started our rebellion." She pointed to the notepad Aziraphale had. "Some of it is in there."

Turning her head, Aziraphale tapped the notepad. "That seems rude to me."

"Rude?"

"Well, yes. You're sick. You're babbling from a fever, which isn't too reliable, and you wake up to find an entire movement around you. You didn't consent to any of that."

Crowley pursed her lips, assessing Aziraphale's expression for any kind of teasing. She looked serious. Her lips were pressed into a little pout that was sort of cute. "I...guess I didn't. I didn't mind either."

"You didn't have a choice."

"Now wait a minute—"

"No," Aziraphale conceded, holding up a hand, "I know I'm overstepping. There might be more involved in it—"

"I was given a choice, but it wasn't really a choice," Crowley interrupted.

Aziraphale didn't flinch. "What was it?"

Crowley bit at her bottom lip, deflating as she sighed. "I could continue traveling after getting my bearings. I could have packed some belongings and set out to find out what was going on. That was an option. My friend said I could also stay. I could be a part of something that could change things and make it right. I wanted to know who I was. I didn't think I could do it going further away from where I found myself, and I liked what we were going to be fighting for."

Aziraphale nodded. "Then I apologize," she murmured without shame.

Crowley stared at her for a moment. There was a sudden realization as she tried to recall the last time she'd been apologized to...for being wrong, for jumping to an incorrect conclusion. 

Smiling, Crowley pushed fingers through her hair. "I should have told the whole story. It's always difficult to remember that someone else can't just know everything. Um, maybe the delirious rantings will make more sense to you?"

Aziraphale smiled. "Maybe. You know, I had an idea in my head of what the leader of the rebellion would be like."

"Everyone does." Crowley shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Yes. You are not at all the woman I imagined you would be." Aziraphale smiled wider. "That's a compliment, so you can stop grimacing."

Crowley smoothed her expressive face. "Thank you. Now...how is it a compliment?"

Aziraphale tossed back her head and laughed. Crowley didn't quite get the joke, but the unabashed delight carried her away as she laughed with Aziraphale. Aziraphale sobered, a hand pressed over her lips. "I imagined you would be obstinate and demanding."

"I'm not," Crowley teased. "But I...do understand. There's an image of me. It's actually annoying."

"Everyone has a perception of people. It's not altogether surprising. It takes work to make sure the perception is what you want it to be." Aziraphale lifted her shoulders and then relaxed them. "What I mean is, you should probably work to push the perception you want."

"Kind of hard when I can't go out." Crowley waved a hand at the outside world. "I don't even know how it started!" Her hands flung up above her head as her voice rose.

Aziraphale raised a brow and tutted under her breath. "Someone spread it. It isn't necessarily a bad reputation if someone wanted you to remain aloof and apart from the main people in your rebellion. It probably helped in the beginning."

Crowley bit at her bottom lip as she considered how Catherine felt about her wanting to take a more active role. "Yeah. It was fine in the beginning." Clearing her throat, she shifted the subject. "So a name! I'm really no good with names. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Hmm," Aziraphale mused, rubbing at her chin with one finger, "maybe I do. Order of the Serpents is really long. It doesn't roll off the tongue. It sounds pretentious."

Crowley noted that Aziraphale would probably know what pretentious sounded like. She embodied it, and while it definitely rankled, it wasn't altogether unlikeable. "Okay, so we want it shorter, easier to say, and humble? Can we keep the snakes?"

"You'll probably have to. Why snakes though?"

"Because of how people view them. Some people revere them, hold them up as a sign of healing and medicine. Some people hate them and want to kill them."

"Hated and loved? Is that what you want for your group?"

Crowley nodded. "Yes. My, uh, friend didn't like it. They don't like snakes." She grinned, baring her teeth.

"Ah. Well, I'm neutral about them. They're an animal like any other. They simply do what they were made to do. They aren't particularly aggressive. They would like to go about their lives, and they hide when threatened."

"Exactly!"

Aziraphale raised a brow. "I know you're a fan, but perhaps you could explain why? It might help with a name."

Crowley smiled, sliding to the floor with no preamble and scooting forward until she sat in front of Aziraphale. She ignored the befuddlement on Aziraphale's face. "I was still trying to recover. There was a garden I could walk into without anyone seeing me. I was there one evening and this little guy came poking his nose out."

"How did you know it was a he?"

Crowley snorted. "I checked. I mean, not right away but much later in our relationship. Anyways," Crowley glowered in mock-annoyance at the interruption and Aziraphale held up both of her hands, "this little brown snake slithered out from the bushes. I noticed he was hurt. He was holding the back end of himself all stiff. Something took a bite out of him.

"I rushed to get help and together we guided him into a pillowcase with sticks and then made a home for him. I gave him space, let him heal, fed him, and then after a while we got used to each other."

"Did you name him?" Aziraphale had tilted her head, taking in the story sincerely.

"No. I let him go after a couple months. He was a nice friend though. I could talk to him about stuff I couldn't say to others." She bit at her lower lip and then smiled. "Snakes always stay wild animals. I mean, not like a cat or a dog."

"Or a horse."

"Or a horse," Crowley agreed.

"Do you know that the word for snake in Latin is really quite lovely?" Aziraphale swiveled in her chair, rising to walk to a nearby pile of blankets. Reaching under them, she rummaged for a bit before she came out with a book.

"No. Wait," Crowley gaped, "you have books here?"

"Of course I do," Aziraphale sniffed. "Do you honestly think I spend my evenings in my room twiddling my thumbs?"

"No, but—"

"Now right here it talks about snakes." She opened the book and shoved it at Crowley. "And don't you dare bend the spine or crinkle the pages!"

Crowley took the book reverently in hand, eyes peering at the pages with parted lips. She stared for a couple seconds before she realized what was wrong. Her nose wrinkled. "This is in Latin!"

"Oh! You can't read Latin." The book was taken back, Aziraphale's perched glasses rising to read the text. "The main point derived from this text is that snakes, called serpens in Latin, are likened to cleansing flame that signals rebirth." She closed the book and smiled. "Serpens is nice, right?"

"For...for the name of our group?"

"Well yes. It's simple, clean, still sounds like serpents, will be noticed by the learned and political person, and can poetically fit any motto you try with it." Aziraphale stood again, moving to place the book back under the blanket. The way she caressed the binding made Crowley wonder if she'd gotten it out just to touch it.

"It is nice. We should have a motto, huh?" Crowley smiled. "Does this mean you want to work with us?"

Huffing, Aziraphale turned with her hands on her hips. "It means this is a trial run! I have been quite dissatisfied with how your rebellion presents itself. Finding out from their leader that maybe their goals aren't what I imagined—" Aziraphale paused. "I won't lie. I do not want to overtly rebel. I wouldn't mind some changes."

"You wouldn't mind books not being burned."

"Among other things, but yes, an end to book burnings would be nice." Aziraphale sighed. "Now, we should discuss the area I know outside of Steepmond."

"Please," Crowley agreed. She shifted on the floor, wondered if she should get up, and then brushed the thought aside. Her leg felt like it was beginning to cramp. Furrowing her brow, she rubbed at her calf, stretching it out in front of her. Nothing really felt like it hurt there. It was just a strange, jittery sensation. It was a familiar jittery sensation…. "Uh, actually—"

"Hm?" Aziraphale had moved to another pile in the truthfully busy room, pausing to glance back at Crowley.

"I, uh, I might need to leave." Standing from the floor, she stamped her feet on the ground and frowned as the feelings of restlessness increased.

"Whatever for?"

Crowley drew her attention back to Aziraphale, who was frowning as intensely as Crowley was. "I think someone is doing something. I mean—" She waved her hands in the air as she felt an increasing wave of panic. "I mean that someone in my group, in the rebellion, is wanting something right now, and it's going to happen. I don't know what it is, so I need to leave."

"Okay. Okay." Aziraphale moved toward her. "Do you need help? You look-you look quite pale actually. Is it really that bad you can't wait it out here?"

"I don't know what it is!"

Aziraphale's hands came up in a calming gesture, and then she was in front of Crowley, taking Crowley's hands in her own. The warmth of them was shocking. "You're cold! I'm not worried about what it is. You shouldn't be out there when you're this nervous about it. You could make a mistake. Right?"

"R-right," Crowley agreed. "But it might be bad."

"And it might be small?"

"Yeah, it could be small, but it could also be men falling and hurting themselves." Crowley felt Aziraphale's pull as she guided her back to the couch.

"Then we shall deal with that. Come and get warm. I won't have you stumbling out like this. That would be unconscionable of me. Whatever happens, we can both deal with it, I'm sure."

As Aziraphale settled beside her on the couch, Crowley went rigid. The sound of stiff boots stomping outside on the street outside drifted into the opened window. Aziraphale heard it as well. Her grip on Crowley's fingers tightened. "That's close," Crowley whispered.

"Yes," Aziraphale agreed. Her brows were furrowed, staring hard at the window. As she rose, Crowley's hold on her fingers tightened. She looked down, brows raised, and then smiled. "Let me turn off the lights up here. I'll be right back."

Crowley stared at her hard, eyes wide in the flickering candlelight, and then nodded as she released her hand. Her fingers clenched in her lap, stretching the fabric of her pants. Aziraphale crouched slightly, moving to her desk and turning down the lantern's light until it guttered out. Aziraphale stared out the window, but she didn't approach it. Crowley held her breath, hearing the stomp of the boots come closer.

The thump of a gauntlet on the door downstairs made them both jump, turning with startled eyes to gape at each other. Crowley let out a squeaking sound, in a blind panic, and rose at the same time Aziraphale moved toward her, grabbing her wrist. "Wait," Aziraphale hissed. "Stay here."

"Open the door now, in the name of Lagh. We're doing a sweep," a male voice boomed as the door shuddered under a fist.

As the sound echoed through the upstairs room, Aziraphale released Crowley and started toward the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay for this one. I know it probably wasn't much of one, but I got sick and just...felt horrible I couldn't get this out last week. Here it is though, and my first cliffhanging chapter in quite a while.
> 
> What cliffhangers mean is that I will not want to leave you there for a long time. :D I am recovering, so the writing will keep coming!
> 
> Your comments and kudos mean the world to me. Getting one reminds me people do like this story and that just makes me smile. I hope my story makes you smile too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the cliffhanger from last chapter. How do they get out of this situation? Aziraphale has a plan. She has several plans, and she and Crowley really seem to be clicking. But why does Crowley think there's something more to this patrol knocking on the door? What does Crowley find out that further fractures her friendship with Catherine?

Crowley reached out to Aziraphale, but she was already down the stairs, and Crowley was left with her hand held out in supplication. Crowley could not show herself to the soldiers, and while she'd been told to stay here, she didn't know if she needed to hide or not. Where would she hide anyways? The room was dark without the only light extinguished, full of shadowed lumps and clusters of items she was more likely to make noise with than be able to hide within.

Hearing the door open before the fist could thunder on the wood again, Crowley craned her neck to pee down the railing that descended into darkness.

Though she couldn't make out her form at the door, Aziraphale's voice echoed upstairs, sounding noticeably high-pitched in offense. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It is by order of Lagh that we run a sweep of your premises—"

"What is going on? First my shipments are stolen by bandits and now this? It's the middle of the night. I've got a very important meeting with the guildmasters tomorrow morning. What do you think they'll say if they found out I arrived, Hyacinth forbid, late because of a patrol doing a random sweep on their property!"

"Their—" Crowley heard a long pause from the soldier and shuffled toward the banister, peering down at the flickering light that threw Aziraphale's shadow onto the floor of the shop. "This is guild property?"

"Oh, thank you for reminding me!" Now Aziraphale's voice went up a chipper octave. "Do you have the appropriate paperwork filed necessary to perform searches and seizures on Phosphorus Guild property? If you do not, and you insist on continuing, I'll be filing a formal complaint with Duke Madoc. I am sure the Guild won't appreciate their work being threatened."

"Phosphorus—?" Crowley heard a clearing throat. "There are reports of a known felon in this area," the soldier sounded less sure. Crowley couldn't help grinning at his discomfort.

"And you think the Phosphorus Guild would harbor a known felon— What is your name, actually? Name, rank, and commanding officer."

"Uh," the voice trembled, "I am the commanding officer. Stephens. Blake Stephens."

"Well...commanding officer Stephens, I will be finding out who your superior is then." Crowley could imagine that flash of throat as Aziraphale tipped her head upwards just based on her tone. "Are you going to do your search then so I can immediately wake them to report you?"

"No." A sharp clap that must have been boot heels snapping together. Were they saluting Aziraphale? Crowley clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "We are pleased to have the Phosphorus Guild in Steepmond. We'll check on your supplies as well."

"Lovely! Thank you so much. I shall be sure to, instead, commend you for your service to the Guild. We're so happy to be a patron to Steepmond. Goodnight now." Crowley heard the soldier splutter, but it was cut off as Aziraphale closed and locked the door. Crowley heard the sound of booted feet fade from in front of her shop and then the shuffle of Aziraphale's footsteps back to the stairs.

Peering down, Crowley only felt her breath leave her chest where it pressed tight and aching when she saw Aziraphale's blonde curls at the bottom of the staircase. Aziraphale glanced up, placing a finger to her lips in caution as she ascended.

As she finished the climb, Crowley reached out, taking Aziraphale's hand in her own and ignoring the surprised look she received. "You were brilliant," she hissed.

Smiling, Aziraphale nodded, leading Crowley back to the couch she had calmed her down on before. "It's remarkably easy to intimidate someone when they are aware of the types of agreements between the city and the Guild there are and what breaking them might mean for their career. A soldier that wasn't so primed for promotion wouldn't have given one single whit about it. I was lucky."

"What-what if you weren't lucky?"

Aziraphale pursed her lips, furrowing her brow in what might have been concern. "Chemical burns are nasty things, Crowley. I am quite sure an accident that occurred after a scuffle with a Guild member attempting to protect Guild property would be a tragedy."

Crowley's eyebrows were at her hairline. "You're vicious," she crowed, grinning widely. "Chemical burns?"

"Perhaps a tad over a line I'd like, but there isn't just you to protect in this building."

"The books!"

Aziraphale smiled. "And Guild business too. That was never a lie."

Crowley nodded, and then squeezed the hand she still held in her hand. "Thanks. I mean, for getting rid of them. I know it wasn't all for me, but...I was ready to jump out the window."

"That would've been a poor idea for either your legs or not getting caught. I'm quite certain they're looking for an escapee when they bang on people's doors. It's a good tactic to...smoke people out, as they say."

"Do they say that," Crowley teased. She continued on. "Do you think I should leave?"

Aziraphale shook her head, releasing her hand from Crowley's grasp to place it in her lap. "Oh, no. It definitely isn't safe with them scouring the city. They could even do a sweep near where you live. It's best you stay here. Besides, we can't waste this time simply because Lagh's soldiers wanted to interrupt us." Aziraphale patted her legs and stood, skirt swishing around her as she moved back to the piled items at the rear of the room. "Now it's just over here."

"What is?" Crowley turned to watch her in a mimicry of what they'd done before the guard had come stomping along.

Aziraphale bent over to uncover a crate and pulled out a large portfolio tacked with a sheaf of papers, sitting back on the couch to unfold it on her lap. "Steepmond used to be bigger. The constant attacks by the Dawn forced them to shrink, though they only tore down the old walls and put them closer to the shore."

"That...makes sense. Hold on, is that a map?" Crowley leaned over to look at the pages, running a finger carefully over one of the papers. "It is! You have maps of what the city used to look like?"

"Yes, they're blueprints." Aziraphale nodded, reaching to gently grasp Crowley's hand and lift it from the paper. "They don't burn these."

"They don't? But...they have to," Crowley protested.

"Yes, except they don't." Aziraphale smiled. "You see it's not just the loss of knowledge that I detest, it's the hypocrisy. They burn those books that belong to the public, but certain knowledge is allowed to pass on. They needed these." She ran her fingers lightly over the paper.

Crowley was stuck watching them glide over the lines that formed the streets and building outlines she didn't recognize from above. "Uh, yeah. I mean," she stuttered, forcing her eyes back onto Aziraphale's face, "hypocrites. I actually needed something like this. The sewers— The abandoned ones. We could use that. You moved the books, right? It'd be safe for us to use them?"

Aziraphale pursed her lips, studying Crowley for a long moment. Then she nodded. "I moved the books. It should be safe. A lot of those sections are...highly dangerous though. They haven't been maintained for a number of years."

"We figured that. We're prepared to— Well, we're going to talk about it. It'll be a cost." Crowley straightened where she had begun to slide into a casual recline on the couch. "Finances are important. I needed to mention that too!"

Aziraphale raised a brow, an upward curve to her lips. "Did you? You needed to mention finances?"

"Yes! I needed to see how much this endeavor is going to cost us. I mean the building. I told, uh, the person in charge of the finances that we likely wouldn't be paying for the building."

"That's right." Aziraphale looked down at the papers on her lap and flipped to the middle of them. She pointed to a section of a map. "That is the barracks. Do you recognize them?"

"Yeah! I mean, I've been there." She pointed to the far left corner. "There was a bit of supplies the soldiers had left out and we stole that. That was a while ago though, back when things were just beginning."

"Really?" Aziraphale looked up with interest. "Does your group still steal things?"

Crowley shrugged. "Sure. We steal them and resell them."

"So it's entirely possible you stole my supplies."

Crowley's eyes widened, looking up at Aziraphale's narrowed-eyed gaze. "Uh, it is?"

"I am quite sure alchemical agents would be highly valued on the market. So it is possible, yes. I mean, the soldiers generally blame bandits, as does the Senate when complaints are lodged, but the populace knows it's the — your group."

"Oh." Crowley bit her lower lip. "I didn't—"

"You didn't know, or I'm choosing to believe you." Aziraphale sighed. "Can you get those supplies back for me?"

"Yes. Yeah, I can." Crowley frowned. "Unless we've already sold them."

"In which case, I've supplied you the money you need for my venture with you." Aziraphale arched a brow and tipped her mouth upwards in a sly grin.

"Ah. Oh," Crowley laughed, "I get it. I was wondering why you weren't mad."

"I do need those supplies, but they're the Guild's with a little extra padding for myself. I will tell them bandits took them, as I have been telling them for months now. They'll know, like everyone else, that it was your group."

"Is it bad if we get their attention?"

"Yes and no. It isn't immediately bad, and it's something we can get into later. Talking about my location is more important right now." Aziraphale refocused Crowley's attention to the map by tapping on it. "This is the location I want." She pointed to a building to the right of the barracks. "It's beyond what is now the wall, but not too far out. It's an intact building that the Senate uses for old documents."

"Won't they check it then?"

"No. They don't want anyone venturing out there while the burnings occur, and the area I want to use is the basement, which is connected by sewers. So your idea of using the sewers aligns with my own. That's a handy bit of coincidence." She tapped the paper with her finger again and pursed her lips. "Except I want to block that entrance."

"You want to block it? But...how will you get in and out?"

"Only I and you will know that, but...I don't want you to tell anyone." Aziraphale looked steadily at Crowley. "Do you understand why?"

Crowley swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Er...you...trust me?"

"Yes," Aziraphale agreed, smiling, "I do trust you. Maybe I trust you in spite of myself; I haven't decided yet. The main reason though is that I don't trust your friend. You've made it quite clear she holds equal standing as a decision maker, and in fact, is the original decision maker of your group." Aziraphale raised a brow. "I also sense that this is changing."

Crowley shifted on the couch, bringing a leg up to sit on it. "Uh," she hedged. Her skin crawled suddenly as guilt pressed down. She should be protesting. She should be saying 'no' and 'never'. Instead Crowley sighed. "I don't know."

"It's something you'll need to figure out. Don't worry about my own thoughts on that matter." Aziraphale rested a hand on Crowley's arm. "For now, we shall begin organizing my workspace. This actually shouldn't cost you much though. I just need—" She paused, biting at her lower lip.

"You need...what? I'll get whatever you need."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and she patted the arm her hand still lay on. "Don't be silly. You can't just go around...promising things like that. Especially not to strangers."

Crowley pouted, but nodded. She couldn't have pinpointed why she'd blurted that out anyways. "Then what do you need, and I'll see what I can do to help."

"I'll need help moving the books. Where I moved them to wasn't difficult, but this will be. It's on the east side of the town. I know," Aziraphale explained, bringing her hand back to her lap, "that your group moves things around. Stolen or otherwise. I know you have a system of some sort. It's a well-kept secret. That lets me know you're organized and efficient."

"Oh!" Crowley knew just the system Aziraphale meant. "Yes, we can help with that. I mean, I can help with that." Tilting her head, Crowley tapped her chin with a finger. "We'd have to tell them where we're going though…."

"That's fine. Just not about the books going there. In fact, they will be last to be transported alongside my more delicate alchemical supplies. I am quite used to hiding them among those."

"That's right. You had to come to Steepmond with all of that, right?" Crowley frowned. "Can I—? How did you manage that?"

Aziraphale chuckled. "The same way I'm managing it now. Except then I had the Guild's unknowing assistance. It wasn't easy, but I managed to keep the books hidden without someone wanting to rummage with a few simple and relatively harmless booby traps."

"Booby traps?" Crowley beamed. "I want to hear that story!"

"Yes, well perhaps when you come by next week, if a week is enough time to set things up?" Aziraphale arched a brow.

Nodding, Crowley slapped a hand to her leg. "It sure is!" She couldn't remember her earlier panic. Maybe her mind wanted to stray from it, or maybe it was something about Aziraphale…. "Uh, I should probably head back. It's probably safe now."

Aziraphale smiled, closing the binder and setting it beside her. "Probably," she teased. "Crowley, I hope you don't think—" She paused, adjusted herself on the couch and sighed. "I hope you don't think I'm trying to waltz into your organization and dictate things. I have a confession about...the suggestions I've been making."

Crowley stiffened, but despite the hesitant way Aziraphale spoke, she couldn't mean anything bad. The voice warning her that she might be biased and prone to accept that anything Aziraphale did sounded like Catherine's. "Go ahead. I'm listening," she answered honestly.

"I have known about your group for a while and it's why I came here."

Crowley couldn't have been more unprepared. "What? But—" She frowned. "You tossed out the people who came to recruit you!"

Aziraphale nodded, ducking her head. "Yes, I did. I wanted to speak to, well, a higher-up. I wanted someone more official. I, um, intended on this being the outcome all along. I mean, the exchange. It's no secret that books are being hidden away and that some rebel group is causing unrest in Steepmond. So I came to Steepmond because my collection is growing larger, and I need help keeping it safe. I...I honestly had no idea about any of the rest though.

"Except the name," Aziraphale added with a frown. "The name is quite awful from a marketing perspective."

Crowley chuckled. "Okay, okay." Standing, she looked around for a moment before she picked up her messenger bag where it had slid onto the floor in their joint haste. "We can talk more about your motives later."

"You don't mind?"

Crowley stared into a surprised gaze and grinned in the face of it. "That would be hypocritical of me, wouldn't it? I mean, I sought you out intending to...you know...get your books. You left the books out as partial bait?"

Aziraphale settled in her seat, smiling. "I did, yes."

"Good then. We might actually think the same. I mean, pragmatically."

"We might." Aziraphale stood. "Shall I see you out?"

"Can I take the window?"

"Certainly not! I have a back door!" Aziraphale huffed, sweeping past Crowley to the stairs.

"You do," Crowley queried as he hurried to keep up. "No one reported a back door."

"Well, it's a secret. If someone reported it, it wouldn't be secret." Aziraphale continued walking after reaching the main landing, turning down the rows of shelves. "Keep close and don't knock into any of the shelving."

"I don't want chemical burns!" The quietly amused huff ahead of her was heartening. Crowley held a hand out to steady against the shelves as they moved, not as confident as Aziraphale about walking in a straight line in near darkness.

"Here we are."

As Aziraphale announced this, Crowley bumped into her back, reaching out a hand to grab her shoulders and steady her. "Are you okay?"

"Quite fine. I should have warned you." There was a brief pause before Aziraphale cleared her throat. "You can let me go. I'm balanced."

"Ah, yeah, sorry!" Crowley threw back her hands, feeling her face heat.

"You can't see in the dark," Aziraphale teased. "Not that I can either." She bent over, heaving upwards with her hands. As a shadow separated from the floor, Crowley realized it was a trapdoor.

"You have a basement?"

"It's good for more volatile agents or things that need temperature control. It also has a good supply of wine."

"I love wine!" Crowley crowded behind Aziraphale as she descended a set of steep stairs. "We should drink wine sometime!"

Crowley couldn't see Aziraphale's expression as she angled her head towards her. "Together?" The tone sounded surprised.

"Of course together! How else can we drink wine if not together," Crowley scoffed. She heard a soft chuckle and stopped this time when Aziraphale did the same. Crowley squeaked as firelight blinded her for a second. "Could you warn a girl?"

"Oh, your eyes are so sensitive," Aziraphale tutted, "but of course I'll warn you from now on." Crowley felt a hand wrap around her own and a slight tug. "Come on. Away from the light and you'll adjust quicker."

Crowley squeezed the hand wrapped around hers, smiling a bit foolishly as she was guided to where the light was dimmer. Opening her eyes, she looked around to see a candelabra hanging from a surprisingly high ceiling. The back wall was stocked with wine bottles, some rather dusty, tucked into cubicles much like the scrolls in the sewers under the temple. The rest of the space was rows of shelves with various bottles and crates. "Thanks."

"Not a problem," Aziraphale responded, her hand slipping from Crowley's. "Well." She paused to clear her throat. "There's a door."

Crowley blinked, looking around at the walls, the floor, and the ceiling and seeing unmarred construction around them. "A door?"

"Over here." Aziraphale walked to the right, shoved a shelf aside with the ease of someone physically strong, and gestured to the hole. "It just leads to the back of the property. Be careful sliding around the stuff there. It's made to look….distasteful, but it's benign."

"I'll remember that." Crowley moved toward the door, turning to walk backwards. She grinned at Aziraphale as she stopped with her back to the door. "So...a week again? I should have the supplies by then. We can drink and discuss things."

"You didn't wait a week this time," Aziraphale chided, a soft smile on her lips, "and what if we get interrupted again?"

"Pfft," Crowley waved a hand, the other fumbling behind her until it found a doorknob, "first, maybe I won't wait an entire week again just to spite you, and two, I'm going to get to the bottom of us getting interrupted."

"Get to the bottom of it?" Aziraphale took a step toward Crowley, her brow creased as she frowned.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure someone...wanted it? I'm not sure what they wanted though. We usually find out because we both feel it. I mean, me and the person who wanted it."

"I see…. You will be careful?"

Crowley's eyes widened. "Uh, I mean, of course. But...specifically why?"

"Well," Aziraphale stuttered, hands wringing in front of her, "what if someone wishes you harm?"

"Uh." That wasn't the most reassuring response, but Crowley gripped the knob in her hand, grinning charmingly, and pushed the door open. "I don't think that's possible."

Aziraphale's face twisted, and Crowley recognized the doubt there now. "I'll take notes on your notes and do my own research."

Crowley nodded. "See? You're very helpful, and I appreciate it! And speaking of books, I'll come back and, um, look at that one you mentioned earlier?"

"Oh!" The hand wringing picked up pace, and Aziraphale's eyes went wide as she frowned. "I completely forgot! I'm so sorry!"

Both of Crowley's hands came up at the distressed tone. "It's alright! We had an emergency happen that you saved us from! I bet with those notes and that book, you'll have a lot to share! Even if it's," Crowley straightened as she continued, her voice taking on a stiffer, higher tone, "'well, I don't know; you're just an enigma!'"

"Was-was that supposed to be me?" Aziraphale's lips twitched, hands still.

Crowley grinned. "Yeah. Did I do good?"

"I sound nothing like that, but you are definitely an enigma!" She'd tipped her nose into the air, but there was a smile lighting her face. "Get home safe now. I'll see you later."

"See you later!" Crowley pushed the door behind her fully open, stepping outside and turning just in time to keep from smacking her nose into a wall. She heard the chuckle behind her and decided she would not comment as she closed the door.

There was a narrow path between the wall and the building, and at the end of it was a pile of cloth bags, bulging at their sides. Crowley stopped before the bags, leaning back at the stench emanating from them. Wrinkling her nose, she raised a shoe to poke at it, gagging as the bag squished under her toes.

Aziraphale had said it was a deterrent, and Crowley was feeling deterred. Aziraphale had also said it wasn't anything bad, but the scent definitely said otherwise. Crowley had to stretch her leg over the pile, wincing a bit, before she was able to slide into the back alley.

She ran a hand down her pants, just to make sure nothing was there, and then continued toward home. The rest of the trip was uneventful with most of the city sleeping and the patrols quieted down.

Slipping into her house, this time the lights were already on in her office. Sighing, she set down the bag at the door as she heard the sound of quick footfalls.

"Crowley?"

"Yeah, I'm safe." She allowed the hint of irritation in her voice, so she was surprised when Catherine dashed into the kitchen room to wrap her arms around Crowley and pull her close. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

"Uh, thanks?" Crowley's delayed reaction to wrap her own arms around Catherine didn't go noticed. "Is everything alright?"

"Were there patrols out? Did anyone see you," came the muffled response.

"Actually yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that. I think someone— Did someone already tell you they felt like, uh, things were about to get weird?"

Catherine's hands shifted to Crowley's shoulders, pushing her back until they were face to face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, her bottom lip raw as if she'd worn it with her teeth for hours, and her hair was tousled. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

A sense of alarm and dread threaded with the acid tang of panic shot through Crowley's middle. "You...you didn't mean to? What happened, Catherine?"

"I-I just had a thought. That's all! I was upset, and I was thinking, and I just thought it!"

"And it happened?" The panic settled into her stomach like lead. "You wanted me to get caught?"

"No! No. I just wanted you to understand the danger you were in!"

Crowley pushed her back fully, releasing her to stalk back to the door. She stopped in front of it, staring hard at the wood. "I understand the danger," her voice felt thick in her throat.

There was a sniff behind her. "You're alright," Catherine confirmed with a sob caught in her throat.

"We...we're alright," Crowley gritted out, narrowing her eyes at the door. She was tired of being angry, but she was very angry.

"What?"

Spinning on her heels, she stalked toward Catherine, until they were toe to toe, lips a thin line. "Aziraphale and I are alright. You put both of us in danger!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"Well...you did!" Her hands flapped out from her side, up to her head, and then slapped against the side of her legs. "You did! You put us both in danger! We both get what kind of danger we're in, and you put us in it anyways! Why would you—?" Grabbing fistfuls of her red hair, Crowley tugged at them as she turned to again stalk to the door. "I need you to leave."

"Crowley—"

"No! You need to leave! I'm so pissed! I just want to yell at you! Leave!" She did yell the last word, hearing it echo around them and hoping no passing patrol caught it on the breeze. She heaved a sigh. "I'll still come over tomorrow. I promised the kids. We'll...talk. Okay?"

"O-okay," Catherine agreed.

As she moved toward the door, Crowley circled the other way, moving to get a drink of water. She heard Catherine pause at the door as she opened it and spoke before Catherine could. "It's— Just please go. I can't do this right now."

Catherine was silent, but Crowley heard the shuffle of her feet before the door closed with a quiet click.

In the sudden silence, Crowley brought her glass to the small table and thumped into the seat, sliding to the edge of it and letting her head fall back until her neck rested on the back. She closed her eyes and felt a sting of tears in them.

It felt like a betrayal. Maybe it would make sense tomorrow, but it made no sense right now. What was she supposed to do? All Crowley wanted to do was scream at Catherine, cry, and then run to tell Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was new to all of this, though. Even if she had sought them out. She didn't know about Catherine. Crowley had been careful to not say her name. Aziraphale knew Catherine was more than just the other half of the group. She knew she dealt with the finances, the propaganda, and was Crowley's friend. What advice could she possibly give if Crowley just said what had happened?

Aziraphale barely understood what was happening, never mind that Crowley and Catherine barely understood it.

Groaning, she slid a hand over her face and straightened, frowning down at her water before taking a drink. She needed something stronger.

Lifting herself from the chair again, she left the water on the small table and moved to her office, opening the bottom drawer of her desk to pull out the bottle of dark liquid. She didn't bother with a glass as she cracked it open and took a swig.

Sitting behind her desk, she slouched until she was at the edge of the seat so she could prepare for a maudlin introspection. Crowley knew when it was one of those nights, and sometimes, rather than fight it, she simply indulged. With an arm flung over her eyes and the other dangling the bottle toward the floor, she inhaled deeply and then pushed it out until sound escaped that wasn't quite a yell.

Lifting up the bottle, she took another drink and let herself sink into the chair further. "This thing with Catherine is fucked," she spoke aloud. There was no one to reply, no one to listen, and her words sunk into the dim lighting around her. She chuckled, listened to it echo, and then sighed. "Why...would she do that?"

Silence answered her, and Crowley sighed again. "I need to-to do...something." She didn't know what though. Crowley couldn't think. Her eyes burned, and the bottle in her hand felt heavy, and her throat felt tight and hot.

"I can't do it now." She didn't want to think right now, but she also didn't want to feel. That was impossible, she realized, as tears ran tracks down her face. At least, tonight she would feel. Tomorrow she would do something, even if it was just telling the kids a story. Crowley needed to figure things out with Catherine. She would. She just didn't know how.

She just needed time to think without all the thoughts in her head. Crowley took another swallow of the amber alcohol and allowed the sensations to roll over her. She was tired anyways.

She didn't even notice when she fell asleep, bottle clunking to the ground softly beside her chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too long a wait. Real life can be a bitch!
> 
> This story is beginning to settle in my head, so if something contradicts something said or done earlier, it's probably just me figuring out where the story is actually going!
> 
> The next updates might come slower. I have a story I'm working on I need to start in September in order to feel comfortable finishing it by December. No worries! This story won't halt because of it. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Welcome to my excuse to work on my novel. :D That's right, this is my work I've been writing since 2012. I've never been good at completing it, obviously, but just last year I finished one whole book. Unfortunately that was book two. This is book one! I'm excited to be writing this.
> 
> This will have gratuitous sex scenes. I've already envisioned them. This is another work I'm researching a lot on, so if you see something and go 'oh wait did you know this thing', it might be on purpose! :D Point out the Easter Eggs and enjoy the ride!


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